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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705191">It's a hard life.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimeJive/pseuds/PrimeJive'>PrimeJive</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1970s Era Queen (Band), 1970s Era Roger Taylor (Queen), 1980s Era Queen (Band), Angst, Best Friends, Bisexual Brian May, Bisexual Roger Taylor (Queen), Blow Jobs, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Rock Stars, Slow Build, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:14:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimeJive/pseuds/PrimeJive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>'Words are poisonous, he thinks.</p><p>Words screwed up everything between them, always did. Words are useless when the feelings are so abominably overwhelming. Words are knives if you can’t even handle what is in your mind, in your heart, in your soul.</p><p>Words had haunted Roger for so long that he has decided to cast them aside this time.</p><p>And Brian understands. He gets it. For bloody once, he got it right."</p><p>It's a hard life when you can't accept your feelings, and it's even harder when you end up hurting the one you love the most.<br/>This is a story about two men discovering their feelings and trying to mend their broken pieces.</p><p>This fic is ONGOING, not complete. I'm active :)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May/Chrissie Mullen, Brian May/Roger Taylor, Dominique Beyrand/Roger Taylor, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury, John Deacon/Veronica Tetzlaff, Mary Austin/Freddie Mercury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter I: Trying to mend the broken pieces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well, I'm uploading this story again.<br/>The reason? This year had been a nightmare and this story made me happy in the past.</p><p>I'm trying to cope with grief and loss, and Maylor is my safe place right now.</p><p>Please, if you enjoy this fic, leave a comment (I LOVE reading your thoughts about my story) and/or kudos. Means a lot to me &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>If you wanna know how my project is going,  you can find me on Tumblr: https://0-primejive-0.tumblr.com/<br/>And if you feel like talking, don't be shy ;)</p><p> </p><p>PS: You'll notice that the timeline and some events are slightly altered for the sake of the story. Remember, this is fiction. So enjoy it as it is :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>July 1983.</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong><em>Kensington and Chelsea</em></strong> </p><p>Alone in his house, with his elbows on the living room’s main table and his heart tired and throbbing in a cage, he thinks that it’s been a while since the last time they’ve met each other.</p><p><em>He could at least have called, that wanker</em>, Roger thinks with anger, and immediately, an inner, tiny, annoying voice reminds him that he could have called him too actually. But, with more vanity than truth, he convinces himself that Brian was the only responsible for those almost two years of absence and shadows.</p><p>It was his fault.</p><p>It’s been always his fault, Roger repeats to himself, like some sort of mantra, like a sort of a spell that could release him from all the guilt, the frustration, from all the bad decisions that he had made in his life, along with Brian.</p><p>And there he goes again: Brian. Always Brian.</p><p>As Roger tries to erase from his head that bloody, useless spell that only seems to increase his anger, the doorbell rings and suddenly, there's a flutter in his chest. He lifts his head and looks up the clock. Five o’clock. That twat, always on time, not even a minute earlier or later.</p><p>As he makes his way through the stupidly enormous living room (seriously, what on Earth were Dom and him thinking when designed this house?), he can recognise through the main window a dark curly and long mass of hair floating over the bushes.</p><p>It could be a flying poodle. It really could be, indeed. A space flying poodle. But no. That would be ridiculously impossible (but funny, nonetheless). This one was his poodle. Or at least, used to be his. A big, troublesome, nerdy, coward, runaway puppy that has been glued to him since 1968.</p><p>Roger releases a deep sigh, full of anxiety and fear, and opens the door as if he would open the Pandora’s box… once again.</p><p>“Mr May”, he says in a voice tone that tries to be chilly, but ends up sounding like the reproach of an upset teenage girl.</p><p><em>There he is,</em> thinks to himself. That big for nothing human poodle, looking annoyingly good in that white synthetic leather jacket and those skinny jeans. And no clogs, that fashion nonsense that never has failed in making Roger’s eyes bleed from horror. Thank God, it’s the 80’s and Brian is using normal shoes, not those damned clogs. Roger always thought that clogs only look good on a cute, little Dutch girl playing around a windmill, not on a rock star. But somehow, that wanker nailed it during the ’70s.</p><p>Stupid, twat, cute human poodle.</p><p>“Hi, Taylor”, Brian replies, trying to act cool and composed, but failing terribly during the process. He’s carrying two fancy and well-wrapped packets under his left arm while his right-hand scratches his neck. He attempts to smile, but fortunately, Roger speaks before Brian’s poor and lame “I’m-totally-ok-mate” act starts to embarrass them both.</p><p>“Come in, mate”, Roger says, internally cursing himself when he realises that his anger is lowering, as it always happened every time he sees the lost puppy reaction that Brian has after a fight. After their kind of apocalyptical fights. It’s frustrating as hell that, after so many bloody years, Brian’s stupid and guilty half-smile is still kryptonite to him.</p><p>“Dom and Felix? I brought them presents”, Brian says as he enters the living room, with his eyes dancing from here to there, as he recalls the memories of his last time in that place. Memories that, after almost two years, flood through his mind with bittersweet cadences, like a drowse on a rainy day’s afternoon.</p><p><em>No, not this time</em>, he repeats to himself.</p><p><em>Not again, May. Don´t be a daft cow again. Don’t fuck things up again, Brian Harold May</em>, says to himself internally, being more and more conscious of that lump growing in his throat. He leaves the presents over the kitchen’s table, wondering why he missed Felix that much and why he genuinely likes Dominique, that woman who always had the courage to give Roger what he needed.</p><p><em>Courage</em>. That word never appeared in Brian’s scrabble.</p><p>“Dom and Felix went to the mall”, Roger explains as he leads their way to the kitchen. “We need to tire his little arse off. That kid has so much energy that is impossible to take him to bed at night, for Christ’s sake”, says with a smile, while starts to pour some tea. “We barely can watch the telly together with Dom nowadays, not to mention anything beyond that”, laughs, and suddenly, a deeper, bright but, above it all, honest and painful laugh joins his. He turns around and sees Brian, leaning against the door frame.</p><p>“That’s what toddlers do, Rog, but I know the feeling. Thank God Jimmy is five now and he’s giving us some air…” Brian frowns his eyebrows, letting go a defeated sigh “Well, honestly, he gives us a LITTLE more air…”</p><p>Brian and Roger stare at each other for a second and can’t contain the laugh. It seems like yesterday when they used to talk about how to make it big with Queen, and now they’re two middle-aged men who talk about how marvellous and troublesome it is to have a toddler around the house and in your life. Roger leaves the kettle on the kitchen’s table and looks into Brian’s eyes, finding that the lovely, big human puppy can’t hide his anxiety, tapping the door frame with his long, slim fingers.</p><p>And then, Roger feels it. That warm, nostalgic, bittersweet feeling that had lingered with him since the moment Brian became his utopic land, his Shangri-La. And again, like in some sort of wicked loop, he discovers, once more, that it is futile. He can’t hold any grudge against that man, no matter how hard he tries and how much he could have hurt him.</p><p>Behind that eccentric hair, those enigmatic hazel eyes and that stoic face, there is a child. A wounded child that never could cope with his very own true feelings, becoming a foreigner in his own body, heart and soul. A child in a grown-up man costume that could never reach and take Roger’s devotion because it was too overwhelming to handle it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But, please, you must forgive me. I’m old, but still a child.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There he is, then.</p><p>His frightened, clumsy, runaway, adorable human poodle.</p><p>Roger closes the distance between them with trembling but steady steps towards Brian, and with an arm, pulls him for a hug. Brian, instinctively, pulls him even closer, cautiously putting his arm on Roger’s upper back.</p><p>“Missed you, wanker”, Roger whispers in Brian’s neck, as a melancholic smile starts to appear on his face.</p><p>“I-I- I’m so sorry, Rog, I didn’t---” Brian tries to say, batting fast his lashes to shake off the hot tears that, insolently, want to make their way out.</p><p>“Shut up, Bri. Just shut up”, Roger begs, clenching one of his fists on Brian’s back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's the sad-eyed goodbye</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yesterday's moments I remember</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's the bleak street, week kneed partings I recall.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Words are poisonous, he thinks.</p><p>Words screwed up everything between them, always did. Words are useless when the feelings are so abominably overwhelming. Words are knives if you can’t even handle what is in your mind, in your heart, in your soul.</p><p>Words had haunted Roger for so long that he has decided to cast them aside this time.</p><p>And Brian understands. He gets it. For bloody once, he got it right.</p><p>Words had never fixed the pain they caused to each other. Instead, the silent language of their trembling bodies and the wild, anxious pace of their hearts, beating one next to the other, could mend the broken pieces and build up a fresh new start for them both.</p><p>Could be that this time, the silence would be able to save them from themselves.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter II: Waiting for something to fall from the skies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>Kensington and Chelsea</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>July 1983</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Orbital resonance. That is what comes into Brian’s mind during that hug that seems the longest and warmest that they both had in years.</p>
<p>Orbital resonance is a simple concept, yet so marvellous. It is how astronomers call the phenomenon of two planets or celestial bodies exerting gravity influence over one another, as they both orbit around one parent body. A concrete example would be this: for every two orbits Pluto makes around the Sun, Neptune makes three. It is indeed a very basic concept for anyone slightly interested in astrophysics, but for Brian, that phenomenon is beyond space: it could perfectly describe his relationship with Roger.</p>
<p>For every move Brian had ever made, Roger made two. They could have never been a <em>thing</em>, always orbiting next to each other, but never together. They've been orbiting around the band, life, wives, kids, issues… It slowly became an endless resonating loop, a tiresome, deadly one. Brian would often sigh while thinking what would have been best for them: being like Neptune and Pluto or being two dead and doomed stars dancing around each other, madly and careless, inside a lost dark hole.</p>
<p>It cringes his nerves when, secretly, he admits that he would have preferred the second option.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on, sit. We have some shit to talk about” Roger says, breaking gently their hug. He sits on a chair and pours tea “Have a cuppa”.</p>
<p>“Thank you.” Brian takes the cup but doesn’t feel like drinking it right now. Instead, he does feel like watching Roger pouring “one and three-sevenths spoons” of sugar in his tea (actually, it was one and a half spoon, the “three sevenths” was Rog’s way to trolling Freddie and roadies). He can’t help staring at the way his old friend looks down into his cuppa, only to find out that some things never change. The way Rog swings the spoon (three times to his right and one to his left), how his lips pout while he frowns at the same time, tasting the first sip of tea, and how his eyes blink while he puts his cup down make Brian think that those little gestures are what we treasure most about the people we love. Those tiny moments are fragments of eternity. It’s what makes our beloved ones immortals in our memory.</p>
<p>Brian thinks and overthinks and dives in his own thoughts without realizing that he’s been staring at Roger a little bit <em>too much</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bri, mate. Are you all right?”, Roger says, worried. Brian startles.</p>
<p>“Yes, why do you ask?”, he mumbles, not very convincingly.</p>
<p>“Well, maybe because I had to repeat the same question thrice during the past bloody minute, you knobhead! Do you want brownies or scones?” Roger laughs, but suddenly his expression changes to a more concerned one “Oh, for fuck’s sake… don’t tell me you’re on Depakote again. I swear that---”</p>
<p>“No, no… I mean, no about the Depakote thing. And I prefer scones, thank you” Brian quickly responds as he sees the untrusting gaze that Roger gives him “I’m not on Depakote, really, Rog. It’s just… I mean… All of this is a bit… Don’t get me wrong. I just… “he says hesitantly, rubbing a long index finger around his cup.</p>
<p><em>For Christ’s sake, Brian Harold May. Why don’t you just shut the fuck up, </em>he scolds to himself.</p>
<p>Now he just needs to find the words to erase that uncomfortable expression from Roger’s face. Brian feels himself falling into the same old, breathtaking hole that always sucked him in. Why is it so painfully hard to find the right thing to say when it comes to his very own feelings? How can he be so confident and eloquent on those eternal essays about celestial bodies, but when he must talk to a terrestrial one, a beautiful, complex and amazing terrestrial body like Roger’s, he simply lacks the words?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, I know…” Roger gruffly says while he puts the kettle on the table and changes his tone to softer, almost compassionated one. “But… How many times had we worked it out, Brian?” Roger sighs loudly and tiredly as he looks up the ceiling, trying to find the words, waiting for them as if they would fall from the skies at any minute, opening their way through the roof of his ridiculously big house just to land on his tongue.</p>
<p>A piercing silence surrounds them. Then Roger, once again, understands that is all up to him. As always.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You won’t answer, so I’ll do it. A million times, Bri. We worked it out a million, zillion times. But I truly think, and for fuck’s sake I’m talking raw here, that this time we can work it out for good.”</p>
<p>“Why are you so confident, Rog?”</p>
<p>“Because we spent…” Roger looks at his watch consciously “…almost five bloody minutes without throwing ourselves on each other after being apart for a fucking long time” Roger smirks, then changes his voice to another, pretty familiar for them both “Should I call the Guinness people, darling? I really think I should, gorgeous, since it is a once in a lifetime event, can tell you that...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Brian can’t help it and laughs loudly, giving some soft slams at the table as Roger joins him.</p>
<p>“Hey, watch out! My superb tea is on the table. It’s not something that deserves to be wasted, like your crappy tea” Roger says, trying to stop the table from shaking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck, mate! For a moment there I thought you were Fred! But I must say that my tea is not that horrible, thank you very much”, Brian says with faked arrogance.</p>
<p>“We could say that your tea is horrible if someone would be able to taste it. Since is a biohazard, nobody can, so I conclude that your tea is a chemical weapon” Roger says as he brings the scones to the table “And for the record, I do a very convincing impersonation of Freddie, actually. I could be the charm of any Bat Mitzvah, you know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Brian smiles, thinking that Roger’s humour had never failed at snapping a smile from him. But, on second thoughts, he knows that Roger’s way to turn everything serious into something funny, ridiculous or laughable, had always been his method of dealing with things he couldn’t face. That was always his Deux<em> ex Machina </em>to get away from pain and regret.</p>
<p>The ridiculous Guinness act was just a farce to keep his mouth shut. To stop Brian from messing things up again. Silences are dangerous. Roger knows that. And Brian appreciates that Rog, even now, after so many years, still knows how to save his troublemaker arse.</p>
<p>Considerably more relaxed than before, he starts drinking his tea. Roger finds then the moment to get serious, for once, and go directly to the reason why they decided to meet today.</p>
<p>“So, soon we’ll be back at the studio again. I’ve been talking to Deacy and Fred. They have a few ideas that look promising, you know. Nothing like that gay, cheap sound from <em>Hot Space</em>” Roger growls while lighting a cig just in the middle of his tea.</p>
<p>“How could you…” Brian mumbles, watching with half-closed eyes at Roger.</p>
<p>“Record <em>Hot Space</em>? Yeah, I didn’t understand how either…”</p>
<p>“No, bugger! I mean how can you always drink or eat and also smoke at the same time, for God’s sake!”, Brian bursts, shaking his head.</p>
<p>“Oh, please, don’t be a pain in the arse! I need you to focus here, you poodle!”, Roger dismisses his friend’s words “I admit that <em>Under Pressure</em> was gold, but I don’t feel like any other song of that album was <em>us</em>, you know? I need this album to be <em>us</em>. And I can’t come up with the slightest, miserable hint of an idea to work on it. It’s killing me.”</p>
<p>Roger releases a deep, frustrated sigh and frowns, looking into Brian’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Mate, you didn’t bring your guitar. How are we supposed to come up with any ideas?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Well, about that… I have bad and good news. Which one do you want to hear first?” Brian smirks and grabs a scone.</p>
<p>“Bad news first, I guess…” Roger mumbles, arching an eyebrow. Damn it, now what, for God’s sake?</p>
<p>“Well… I have no ideas for this album and we’re going to record on next month. I’m quite a genius, you see” Brian explains, sarcasm all over his words.</p>
<p>Roger fakes a muted and surprised ‘Oh’ with his lips and takes a smoke.</p>
<p>“And the good news?”, asks quickly.</p>
<p>“The good news is that although I don’t have even one bloody idea, neither do you, so that makes us both losers. We should be grateful, my friend”, Brian resolves and takes a bite of his scone.</p>
<p>“Did you notice that the bad news is almost the same as the good ones, May?” Roger asks, choking a laugh.</p>
<p>“In fact, they’re the same, but from different perspectives. You see, in the end, I truly am a genius, Taylor” he chuckles, winking an eye.</p>
<p>Roger laughs and shakes his head. Of course, they were two losers, they’ve always been. No matter how many people would think of them as rock stars, they were still two big twats that could hardly handle their personal lives. As an adult and as a husband, Roger was a fine musician. That is an elegant way to say that he <em>sucked</em> big time as an adult and a husband. Music was the only thing in his life that he could do without fucking up at least once. And maybe parenthood. That was also going surprisingly... No. Suspiciously well. It was kind of a mystery for him how good he turned out to be as a father (Dominique would fully agree on that too).</p>
<p>“So, where do we start?” he asks almost in a whisper, playing with his now empty cup, eyes lost and tired.</p>
<p>“From the beginning, Rog. All from the beginning. Again”, Brian answers. For the first time in his coward and messy life, he has something to light up his path. Their path.</p>
<p>And for once, his words are right. Maybe all the gods are on his side today because he found the magical, mystical words on this warm afternoon and in this very living room, which was a witness of how he had screwed everything up almost two years ago.</p>
<p>Roger is aware that this so-called "beginning" is not only about music. Indeed, they do need a fresh restart.</p>
<p>A new beginning, because the old one had happened a long, long time ago, and had been beautifully tragic.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter III: Waiting for something to fall from the skies II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>London</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>July 1973</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Roger Meddows Taylor was a male therefore he would never be able to experience giving birth. But after almost two years of recording and another one waiting for some bloody record company to publish their first record, just to end up publishing it themselves, he concluded that it was pretty much like giving birth. Hours of labour, no dilatation and finally, having no other option than getting surgery to pull out the baby. That’s what Roger romantically conceived as an exquisite metaphor to describe how <em>Queen </em>got to see the light.</p><p>Sometimes, his bandmates would be scandalized at how he came up with these sinister and highly questionable metaphors.</p><p>Freddie was, indeed, more poetic and functional (just I little more, let's not be carried away). He called all their struggles to get their first album “their epic crusade to their Holy Grail” (a bit overdramatic, but the atmosphere of <em>My fairy king</em> still lingered with him, with the flying horses and everything else), so he decided to throw a massive party at a rented flat. Of course, Trident was paying for it, and it was going to be only for two days: one for the party, one for cleaning up the mess. That last part of the deal was kind of lame… It was a reminder that they hadn’t reached the Rockstar status (no bloody Rockstar cleans up his mess after a party himself, for Christ’s sake, thought Roger), but at least they weren’t paying for the place. That should be enough.</p><p>The night of the party came, and they were euphoric. Alcohol was everywhere, and Roger was feeling like <em>Alice in Wonderland</em>, or in a more accurate description, he was sort of a bootlegged version of Lewis Carroll's masterpiece, something like Roggie in Boozeland. The flat was infested with musicians, friends, cute girls and mischievous women. They barely knew half of their guests but didn’t mind it: the juiciest part of all this was meeting new people, making contacts and screw willing ladies who would hear the phrase “I’m in the band” and would lose their knickers immediately, like if it was a kind of magic spell. “Darling, you look stunning tonight!” Freddie shouted while walking across the entire room, lifting his plastic, cheap cup and being followed by an amused Mary, who seemed to enjoy the alcoholic state of her man.</p><p>“Thank you, Fred, and I appreciate your enthusiasm about my outfit, but, you know, it is like… I don’t know, the hundredth time you’re telling me this? I’m starting to think that you really fancy me, mate”, Roger said playfully, a little bit dizzy because of the drinks he’d already had.</p><p>“Oh, please, dear. Having this beauty beside me, I can’t have eyes for a grumpy, long-haired ferret as you” Freddie said and gently grabbed Mary’s waist, who smiled at him “But, for a ferret, you look fabulous in that blouse and those unbelievable tight pants. You’re the sensation of the entire zoo, darling!”</p><p>Roger burst in laughs, and Freddie and Mary laughed as well. It was something that he’d never admit, but he missed living with Fred. He had that energy that could light up an entire room or burn it down, according to his mood. Roger was sure that, if it weren’t because of Fred, they wouldn’t have done it: the band, their first record, everything they’d accomplished so far. Freddie knew what strings to pull to take Roger, Brian and John to their highest level. He couldn’t explain it, but Freddie was like an adrenaline boost, and since he joined him and Brian, things had simply started to fall in the right places. It hadn’t been easy, but as time passed, Roger had started to see the big picture and that’s how he <em>knew</em> Freddie was <em>something else</em>.</p><p>Now Freddie was with Mary, and Roger was glad: they seemed to share something unique and special, magical even. Something beyond anyone’s comprehension and Roger enjoyed seeing them together. Secretly, he longed for that kind of relationship. Tucked away behind everything, he was also afraid of that sort of relationship. Stupidly, he used to deny all of this to himself.</p><p>“Hey, listen. We have a problem, sweetheart. Well, I think we have two, actually”, Freddie said, overly dramatic, and Mary rolled her eyes while taking off the liquor from Fred's hand.</p><p>“For God’s sake, Fred! It’s not a tragedy. Rog, Chrissie couldn’t make it tonight. something came up at her house, so Brian has been on the rooftop all this time doing who knows what... I mean, Queen isn’t exactly known for its functional members…” she eyed at Freddie, who was staring absorbedly at his black nails “But it would be quite weird if Brian doesn’t show up at all.”</p><p>Roger nodded. Mary was right.</p><p>“Ok, leave that to me, I’ll bring the poodle back to the party, don’t worry about it. But what is the other problem?” Roger asked confused, trying to see what on Earth were those things piled on the table behind Freddie.</p><p>“The other problem is over there”, Freddie whispered and pointed at the other side of the room, with something on his right hand that Roger couldn’t figure out what the hell it was.</p><p>He followed Freddie’s pointing finger and saw it. Deacy was being harassed by a bunch of women who were all talking at the same time about a million different topics. John could hardly respond to any of them, his back glued to the wall, both hands clutching a plastic glass and eyes screaming <em>“Please, Lord, have mercy on my soul”</em>.</p><p>“Oh, fuck. Poor Deacy” Roger said, choking a laugh. It was indeed a hilarious scene “But I don’t think it is a bad situation for him, Fred. I mean, he may get a leg over tonight, the lucky bastard…”</p><p>“Roger Meddows Taylor! You know what this is?” Freddie had finally taken the mysterious thing from the table and was now showing it to him. Roger tried to figure out what the curled dough-thing was but had no success at it.</p><p>“That is… some… biscuit? Fred, you brought biscuits for our bloody rock party? Really?” He said gruffly, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“This, my dearest but ignorant friend, is a cinnamon roll. This is too cute, too pure for this world. It is the gastronomic personification of our John. We can’t leave him with those corrupted women!” Freddie revealed, dramatically.</p><p>Roger shook his head. Oh, dear. Fred indeed was something else. But although he hated to admit it, he had to agree with his friend on this one. Deacy was a softy, he probably wasn’t having a good time over there, and those women seemed terrifying, even to Roger, who would undoubtedly shag Morgan le Fay if had the chance.</p><p>“Mary, Fred, I can handle Bri. You two rescue John.” Roger sighed. Thank God Mary was there. Freddie was wasted enough to compare John to a pastry.</p><p>Damn it. It was the party he’d been waiting for so long and now, instead of getting hammered with a nice bird, he was only a bit tipsy, going to the rooftop to bring back Brian’s arse to the flat.</p><p>As he was walking through the room towards the door, some guys greeted him way too effusively and three or two boozed women threw themselves at him, but he managed to get away from all the giggling and babbling. They were all drunk and high enough they could hardly understand even a simple English sentence.</p><p>Before leaving, Roger took a full bottle of Möet and crossed the door with it. It was <em>his </em>night, and God knew he was going to get his arse drunk on the rooftop if necessary.</p><p>Brian was there indeed, laying on the rooftop floor, stargazing. There were six empty beer bottles at his side, and when Roger closed the door, he barely moved his head to see the human being who dared interrupt his hermit activities.</p><p>“Oh, it’s you” Brian cooed, with an absent-minded smile.</p><p>“Oh, it’s me, Bri. Sorry for interrupting your stargazing, but, you know, there’s a party right down the stairs. A party for us, that includes you. But since you are not coming down, everyone is freaking the hell out asking where you are” Roger said playfully, coming closer to his mate.</p><p>“Let me guess. ‘Everyone’ is Freddie, right?” Brian asked, his eyes still busy in the polluted London sky.</p><p>Roger was now standing up beside him. He looked at Brian frowning and, trying to open the Möet, nodded.</p><p>“Well, yes. Freddie is frantic, probably because of the booze and some other unknown substance that he didn’t share with me. That wanker” Roger finished his sentence with the successful uncorking of the Möet that catapulted the bottle cap towards the skies.</p><p>“Wow… That was like the launch of Apollo 11” Brian murmured and, for once, turned his face to look at Roger.</p><p>“Could you be a little less nerd when we’re trying to get wasted, thank you very much?” Roger laughed and sat beside his friend, starting to drink the champagne. Brian let out a calm sigh.</p><p>“This has nothing to do with Chrissie” he mumbled, as his eyes seemed to follow subtle lines of a drawing in the sky that only he was able to see.</p><p>“I didn’t mention her,” Roger said in a tone that sounded like a complain as if he were annoyed by his friend’s ability to see through him.</p><p>“Oh, but you were going to. And she is not the reason why I am here.”</p><p>“Then why are you here, dumbass?” Roger asked and took another long sip from the Möet.</p><p>“I can’t stand those people, you know. They're so nosy… It’s the only thing I hate about being in a rock band” Brian confessed.</p><p>Roger sighed, tilting a little his head towards his melancholic friend and drank more champagne. Brian, his good, nerd and annoyingly rational Brian. How many years had it been? Five, almost six? It seemed like a lifetime since they’d been together since they’d been friends.</p><p>After he got into Smile, it became utterly natural to be closer and closer to him. It was odd at first because, beyond music, there was nothing that connected them in any way. Brian was a composed young man, a little too serious for a lad in his early twenties and he would tend to compulsively overanalyze everything and everybody. Roger usually thought that it would be a living hell to live even only an hour in his friend’s mind. It was probably a maze, an apocalyptic one, with long hallways that would end up in a Schrödinger box without a cat (Brian wouldn’t allow keeping a cat in a box, that was out of the question) but with choices locked in there, options that would lead you to another hallway and eventually, you would find yourself trapped in a stupid and overly rational maze. One that, paradoxically, would take you to a state of madness. That was Roger’s conclusion after an acid trip, but thinking about it in a sober state afterwards, he concluded that it probably wasn’t all that far from the truth.</p><p>Still, even if he couldn’t understand how his mate would drown himself in his own thoughts, he <em>could</em> understand him as a musician and as a human being. It was more than fair enough to say that they complemented each other. If Brian’s mind was an excessively rational maze, Roger’s mind was a kindergarten, with some kids kicking the teacher’s ankles and others throwing glue into some little girls’ hair. So, the stubborn and quiet brunet gave him the discipline he desperately needed (though he wouldn't admit it), and Roger gave him some fresh air to remind him that he was still young and that it was all right to just do things without thinking about it twice, or thrice.</p><p>“You’re thinking too much again, lad”, Roger said, leaving the bottle beside him and lying down. Brian laughed, almost soothingly, making his whole body shake briefly and childishly, not noticing that Roger’s gaze was upon him. It was weird, but whenever Brian did something like that, something that could show his deep sweetness and kindness, Roger would just feel mesmerized. It was a little awkward, and for fuck’s sake, he knew it was strange, but couldn’t help it. There was this gravitational force that seemed to attract them strongly at moments like this and he couldn’t stop it.</p><p>Gravitational force? Great. Now he was thinking like him.</p><p>“I don’t know if I’m thinking too much, but I do know I have not even the slightest interest in going down there. At least for a while” Brian smirked and looked at Roger, whose face was close to him “Of course, I would appreciate the company of a lovely yet grumpy ferret here on the rooftop.”</p><p>“I’m not a bloody ferret! Why do all of you think of me like one?” Roger whined, following the joke in his lightheadedness.</p><p>“Oh, look at you, Roggie. Fluffy and golden hair, tiny, raspy voice. You are cute as a ferret, truth be told” Brian choked a laugh as he saw the faked displeased expression on Roger’s face.</p><p>“Well, then. I’ll tell you what kind of animal you are. A penguin! A silly bird who can’t fly but… walks funny and…and seems to wear a tuxedo” Roger huffed, being totally conscious that he always called him a poodle and, who bloody knows why he had just changed to ‘penguin’. A penguin had nothing to do with Brian, but apparently, that was the first thing that came to his wasted mind.</p><p>“Thank you, Rog. I really like penguins. I find them pretty amusing, you see, and it is quite refreshing that you didn’t say poodle.” Brian was enjoying the company. Roger was like an angry child who couldn’t win at his favourite game. “I also think that when Freddie sings, he looks like an otter that’s tasted lemon and didn’t like it, if it makes you less bitter about being called a ferret.”</p><p>There was a brief silence in which both men looked into each other’s eyes before bursting loudly into laughing, recreating in their minds the powerful image of an otter displeased at the acid lemon flavour and Freddie singing.</p><p>“You are the worst, May.” Roger tried to say with the little air left in his lungs after laughing so hard. “Then… then what animal would John be?”</p><p>“That’s easy peasy. A bunny, a white and adorable one. Too cute, too pure”, Brian sighed with a smile.</p><p>“But bunnies fuck. Like… a lot. And they breed like mad. Deacy doesn’t” Roger remarked, concerned, giving too much relevance to their drunken chat about animals and friends.</p><p>“Oh, he will. Sooner or later. He´s a bunny, he will eventually get to that”, Brian stated, then chuckled.</p><p>Suddenly, Roger didn’t feel like going back to the party anymore. Being with Brian had always been so much fun and, at the same time, so relaxing. Now they both were stargazing, in complete silence, and Roger thought that it was the best night he had had in weeks, maybe months. He felt at peace and he knew for sure that Brian was feeling the same way because his breathing was soft and slow. They were so close to each other that Roger could even feel his mate’s subtle moves in every breath he took.</p><p>The night felt like it was made pure and exclusively for them, and Roger felt like he could now understand why Brian had always been so smitten with the sight of the only hint that humanity has of the universe: the night skies. The stars, the moon and other things that Roger couldn’t see but could certainly feel had an aura of eternity that made it was an almost impossible task to take his eyes off that unmeasurable mystery.  This perception was a sensation quite eerily similar to what Roger felt every time Brian would drag him to these moments of solitude and quietness. Moments that Roger knew he couldn’t share with anybody else, nobody but him.</p><p>“Hey, Bri… Do you really think they like to rock in space?”, Roger cooed.</p><p>“Well… I don’t know”, Brian said without taking his eyes off the moon.</p><p>“What do you know about the space then, wanker?” Roger softly laughed.</p><p>“Oh, some other things that are way too complex for your comprehension, my little ferret friend”, Brian giggled, provoking him.</p><p>“You penguin-poodle son of a-----” Roger blurted out and jumped on Brian. Then everything turned amazingly childish.</p><p> </p><p>They started clumsily wrestle between laughs and faked growls: the booze was now up in their heads, making everything blurry, dumb and ridiculous. Unnoticed by either of them, they started rolling all over the floor and, oh, little ferret Roger met the Möet bottle, which fell on him. It spilt some of the champagne left in there, making his hair and face wet. Brian then stopped and put the bottle aside. The liquid was all over Roger’s face like he was the sacrifice of an ancient ritual, a pagan baptism that could open the doors for him to a yet to be discovered mystery. Deliciously abstracted from any mysticism, feeling the champagne and the summer breeze in a more terrestrial and ordinary way, Roger was laughing and coughing at the same time, too dizzy to notice that something had been unleashed in his friend with the fall of that alcoholic rain, now running down his face and neck.</p><p>Brian looked down into his friend’s eyes, all watery and smiley, and felt odd but at the same time, he could sense a part of him <em>clicking</em> deep inside. It was like a vision of everything at once, an unbearable knowledge of a truth that he had buried a long time ago, too afraid to let it show, yet too precious to let go. It was his very own secret, which he hadn't realized he had until that night, until that very moment. Until the champagne made his mate’s heavenly face glisten with a wet gleam, eclipsing the stars above them.</p><p>Roger saw Brian’s cryptic, unreadable face and his laughter started vanishing. A pair of hazel eyes were watching him as if it were the first time they met. That feeling of comfort that always surrounded them when they were alone was no longer there. Instead, as if an incense would be falling from nowhere, a dense but sweet heat seemed to fill the whole rooftop, the whole night. Having Brian so close to him, with his dark locks barely touching Roger’s face, made him defenceless. But, far from feeling threatened, he could sense something that had nothing to do with fear or anything remotely similar. Was it dangerous? Of course, it was. Brian was so close that it was terribly alarming: he could see the almost invisible wrinkles in the corner of his lips, undoubtedly <em>male</em> lips, but even so, they had become strangely desirable and he could only blame the Möet. The sensation was getting painfully intense and Roger could no longer deny that strong and unmistakable warm tingle in his cock. He was undoubtedly aroused.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Brian lifted his right hand and took away a blond, wet lock from Roger’s lips, then caressed them with his thumb, fascinated at how soft and mushy that mouth felt. Roger let go a soft moan that broke Brian’s trance, and a great shame came over him, but not as great as his growing and insolent erection.</p><p> </p><p>“Bri… I… I’m not Chrissie…” Roger mumbled with his pupils dilated from all the desire and the unspeakable fear that comes with being at the edge of crossing a forbidden frontier.</p><p>“I know, Rog. I know” Brian whispered, unable to take his eyes off those mesmerizing lips “Can I… just---”</p><p>“Don’t fucking ask” Roger murmured with a tremble on his voice. He wrapped with his hands around Brian’s neck and everything went blank.</p><p> </p><p>Roger took the lead and the kiss was shocking at first. There was no lipstick, they weren’t ladies' lips, yet they were soft and strong at the same time, and the way Brian incisively slipped his tongue in his mouth, made him let out a gasped moan that was more like a growl. He grabbed strongly at Brian’s hair and fought for dominance in his mouth, while he could feel two cold hands scratching softly below his waist. It was instinctive: Roger raised his hips and his throbbing bulge found Brian’s crotch, hard as a rock and intimidatingly huge. The touch made Brian moan, breaking the kiss and they looked at each other for a brief moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Wha—What?” Roger cooed, not caring for anything besides Brian and the odious feeling of desire inside his body.</p><p>“You… you taste like Möet” Brian whispered, almost näive, coming closer again to Roger’s mouth.</p><p>They rubbed his noses and smirked, childishly, like two kids in the middle of monkey business.</p><p>“Then drink me, May” Roger gasped, any remote feeling of shame now long gone.</p><p> </p><p>That was it.</p><p> </p><p>Brian, against all expectations, didn’t think twice. Savagely, he licked up the few drops of champagne rolling down Roger’s neck. There were sweat and alcohol there, but more arousing than that was his mate’s scent. Yes, <em>his mate</em>. His lad. He was rabidly devouring his best friend and nothing, not a single thing about it felt wrong. It felt like coming home after a long, tiresome journey.</p><p> </p><p>It just <em>felt right.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Roger felt on the ninth cloud. When Brian started kissing his neck, his hands went down to unzip his friend’s jeans. He moaned in Roger’s ear at the first touch on his crotch and caressed firmly his arm, giving tacit consent to move forward. Roger then released his friend’s cock and gasped when he touched the skin.</p><p>“Fuck… It’s huge” Roger mumbled, amazed. His hand seemed small beside Brian’s dick and a mix of intimidation and curiosity made him touch it with more intention, wrapping it softly around his fingers.</p><p>“So- sorry…” Brian moaned, feeling shy suddenly. Roger’s touch on his cock felt like electricity and, for God’s sake, the brunet was trying with all his strength not to lose control.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t <em>sorry</em> me!” Roger laughed almost in a whisper. He released Brian’s cock and, with his index finger, caressed it from its base to the top. It was dripping precum already.</p><p>Maybe Roger could blame all of this to the alcohol or whatever, but the truth was that the sight of Brian’s dripping dick shivering by his touch was adding more fuel to his desire. And yes, perhaps he was going to regret it later, but the insanely urge to go beyond and to find pleasure was too much to handle for his intoxicated mind.</p><p>Roger didn’t think twice. As always.</p><p>“Hey, wanna see mine?” Roger cooed with a playfully mischievous gaze.</p><p>Brian nodded his head, unable to speak or to do any other sound besides the low moans provoked by the touch of Roger. If he were sober, nothing like this could have ever happened. But he was drunk enough to consider watching his friend’s erected cock and his neural connections were too numbed-down to question the whole scenario.</p><p>“Then come and get it”, Roger smirked, squeezing suddenly and briefly Brian’s dick.</p><p>Brian moaned, feeling once again that electricity mixed with the dizziness in his head.</p><p>Roger was challenging him as he always did. He was daring him to take a step forward. Brian knew that game far too well by now and Roger had no idea of how badly his quiet mate wanted to play that night. Brian’s right hand went down to find Roger’s crotch and when he did, Brian could feel how his mate pressed purposely his hips against the palm of his hand. His impatience turned him on more and with an unexpected ability for a drunk man, he unzipped Roger’s jeans and pressed the bulge against his boxer’s fabric. He could feel the shape of Roger’s dick and the soft whine that came from the blonde’s mouth pushed Brian to smoothly lowered those already wet pants. Although the moonlight allowed him to see the cherubic face of his mate, Brian couldn’t see what he had just released from those knickers. But, oh, he could feel it. It was warm, thick and the size was enough to fill his whole hand. His slim fingers started to explore tenderly Roger’s member while he looked into his baby blue eyes trying to figure out which spots made his pupils dilate because of the pleasure he was giving him with his touch.</p><p>“Bri…” Roger managed to say between soft moans. He raised his right hand and placed it wide open in front of his friend “Spit on it”</p><p>Brian was shaken, confused. What the hell...?</p><p>“Wh- what?” he muttered as his eyes went from the hand to Roger’s face.</p><p>“Just spit on it” Roger stated with an arousing low voice.</p><p>Doubtingly, Brian shyly spat a bit.</p><p>“Spit on more. Like a man” Roger almost growled and Brian felt his cock twitching at the extremely strong resonance of his friend’s words over his body. Fiercely, Brian spat again, but this time the shy was no longer there. Now his friend’s hand was unholily baptized with his irrational and unexpected lust.</p><p>“Good boy” Roger smirked and with his entirely wet hand wrapped both cocks, or he tried, at least. Both men let go of a surprisingly loud moan when their cock’s skin met for the first time. They both could feel the heat and the humidity between their members and Brian instinctively spat on his own right hand and did the same as Roger. Now, their fingers were drenched in saliva and precum and trying to find a way to wrap their cocks together. Again, Brian was too damn wasted and ridiculously aroused enough to question anything about jerking off together with your best mate.</p><p>At first, it was a bit messy: their hands didn’t seem to find a steady pace and the feeling of their cocks rubbing made their moves going erratically. But without a word, only relying on what their urge asked for pleasure, they could reach a smooth but firm rhythm. Roger’s left hand was grabbing tightly a couple of curls in Brian’s nape while his own hips started a slow-motion to intensify the friction between them. Brian did the same, carried on by his friend’s shameless moans and desperately biting his lower lip to silence his own lustful sounds, bitting so hard that a thin string of blood started to flow from his lip.</p><p>Roger thought that it was such a waste to let Brian hurt himself like that. So, with his left hand still in the brunet’s nape pulled him closer and licked rabidly Brian’s mouth, enjoying how sweet tasted the tiny amount of blood on his lower lip. There was no difference between kissing a man or a woman, Roger thought, but at the same time, there was this huge and uncomfortable difference between kissing a random girl and kissing Brian. But it was not time to think about that. All Roger could think about was how bloody good was his mate with his long and strong hands and how beautiful (yes, beautiful) he looked while the pleasure was running all through his body.</p><p>Brian stuck his tongue out to lick Roger’s lips, but the result was not what he was expecting. Roger naughtily rubbed his tongue with Brian’s as soon it came out from his mouth. For a brief second, they looked into each other eyes. Roger expression was drowsy and mischievous, smirking like a naughty teen. Brian felt like he was pushed to the core once and again, and against all his beliefs, he was extremely enjoying being challenging by this troublesome yet adorable ferret who happened to be his best friend.</p><p>Maybe it was because of the alcohol, maybe because of the intimacy they already shared as mates, they would never know but the truth is that they were now fondling with their tongues, tangled in a French kiss without involving their lips. A lascivious kiss that increased the rhythm of their mutual jerking and their blood pressure. Brian’s left hand went up from Roger’s chest to his neck, grabbing hard his nape and caressing tenderly his chin without breaking their lecherous kiss.</p><p>Saliva was dripping from the corner of their lips and their dicks were getting wet and sticky with each other, they couldn’t think about anything else.</p><p>No Chrissie. No casual shagging. No booze. No party. No space. No nothing.</p><p>Just them.</p><p>“Bri… I just—I think I’m…” Roger babbled, breaking that lustful kiss and trying to meet Brian’s eyes.</p><p>“Just… Just come, Rog” Brian said in a growl, looking into Roger’s eyes and wondering if they always turned into a deeper blue when he was about to come. Wondering if it is legal to be that scandalously gorgeous.</p><p>Roger felt Brian’s left hand releasing his neck and went all the way up to caress his face. Without letting go the rhythm, Brian passed his thumb with no rush over Roger's lips and looked at him with his aroused gaze. And that was stronger than their wet cocks shamelessly rubbing, more powerful than any dirty French kiss. That was <em>affection</em>, for fuck’s sake, and Roger had been avoiding that carefully. Those puppy eyes on Brian’s face and that bloody finger touching his mouth and trying to clean the saliva mixed with sweat and champagne... It was fucking <em>tender</em> and too much for Roger to handle. So, it happened: his back arched and he finally came, so damn hard that his eyes went white and his swollen, parted lips were unable to emit any sound.</p><p>Brian wasn’t prepared for that sight. Roger literally melted under him and the warmth of his cum in his own cock took him to madness. His annoying yet cute ferret was now passed out, with his legs still around his waist. Roger’s body was still moving only because of Brian’s thrusts. He was like a rag doll: a hollowed-eyed and disturbingly arousing rag doll.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Roger had come because of him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Roger was worn out because of him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Roger was a fucking hot mess because of him.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The vision and those words drilling into his head were too much.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, Rog…” Brian growled, hugging Roger tight by his waist and bitting his champagne flavoured neck. His climax came and, Lord, have mercy, it was the most amazing orgasm he had in his entire life. Not inside a woman, not inside Chrissie. It was on Roger, on his best friend’s cock, on that troublesome ferret who was straight as an arrow until just an hour ago, before going to that rooftop.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Holy bloody shit.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>But as the last fireworks of the climax were fading out, the blood started to flow from his cock to his head… and rationality came back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What the fuck had they done?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What on fucking Earth was that?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Brian started to feel that numbing anxiety running through his fingers and his throat narrowed, almost choking him. Thus, unable to feel his entire hands, he found it stupidly hard to zip up his jeans.</p><p>He sat hugging his knees next to Roger, who was still resting on the floor. The alcohol still in Brian’s mind didn’t help him to think with clarity, but one thing was for sure: he couldn’t blame it to the vodka, the tequila or the half dozens of beer bottles he had alone in that rooftop. He was pretty drunk, yes, but not drunk enough to be fully irresponsible for his actions.</p><p>At some point, <em>he wanted this.</em> And that revelation scared the hell out of him. He was now with his gaze lost and moving his feet frantically, a piece of evidence that anxiety and panic had replaced the lust and desire he felt not so long ago.</p><p>He had been <em>unfaithful</em> to Chrissie, and on the top of that, he had cheated on her with his <em>male</em> best friend. There was nothing else that could make things worse.</p><p>He tried to stand up, but the dizziness and his nerves had turned his legs into jelly so, he ended up in the floor again, trying to figure out how he could get his damn arse out of there before Roger came back to his senses.</p><p>But it was too late for that. Roger opened his eyes and looked at his friend, who seemed a bit off. It would be a lie to say that Roger wasn’t shocked. He indeed was. He was absolutely and positively sure he was straight as an arrow, as a ruler, as the fucking Empire State. It was literally yesterday when he jerked off to his favourite picture of Jane Fonda.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What the fuck was this all about?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He looked at Brian’s back. It was a manly back. He couldn’t blame it to the alcohol. He couldn’t even say that Brian has feminine features and that’s why he felt aroused. He was certainly a man and he wasn’t wasted enough to mistake him for a woman. Suddenly, he remembered saying “<em>Wanna see mine?” </em> to him. <em>For fuck’s sake</em>, Roger thought and closed his eyes. They had licked and jerked each other, he had his cum and Brian’s all over his cock and blouse. But the most disturbing thing about all of this was that Roger <em>didn’t regret it. </em>It was weird as fuck? Yes. Did he still like pussies? Hell, yes. Did he find Brian extremely arousing during that lewd kissing and jerking session? Absolutely yes.</p><p>There was an uncomfortable yet sweet feeling of tenderness in his touch that made Roger think that he would repeat it all over again. Because the feeling of being loved by Brian not as a friend but as his lover still lingered in his heart and something inside of him claimed for more.</p><p>He slowly stood up and noticed that Brian was suspiciously and alarmingly quiet. And he knew there was no calm in his quietness because his awful clogs were tapping over and over the floor. Brian was undoubtedly anxious, and Roger could figure out why.</p><p><em>Think, Roggie, think, </em>he thought, trying to find a way to make things easier for them. For Roger, it was futile to deny what just happened. They couldn’t call it “an accident”: you don’t jerk off your friend and end up kissing him by “accident”. But the tension between them was high and <em>something had to be done or said.</em></p><p>So, Roger thought that humour was the key to get away elegantly from all this bloody emotional mess. First, they could laugh about it, and maybe later (and sober) they could question their sexuality.</p><p>It seemed a good plan for Roger, and he trusted wholeheartedly in his plans. Even when he was drunk.</p><p>So, he did his brilliant move.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that was kind of… weird and…damn, pretty hot. I bet you’ll call” Roger said playfully, trying to clean himself with his hands and failing epically in the process “Fuck, I guess I’ll have to sneak to the loo on the main hallway…” Roger zipped up and stood.</p><p> </p><p>Brian thought that the situation couldn’t be any worst. But Roger and his lack of tact were there to prove him wrong.</p><p><em>So, he even has the brain of a ferret, </em>Brian thought.</p><p>And then, he lost it. Simply lost it.</p><p>“How—how the hell can you be so--- so calm?!” Brian blurted, just one step away from a breakdown.</p><p> </p><p>Roger looked at Brian, shocked. He had never seen his friend in that state, and to be honest, it was frighteningly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, mate, calm down, all right? We can talk---”</p><p>“We won’t talk about anything! We just… I just…” Brian stood up trembling and started going around in circles, grabbing his head and with a lost gaze in his eyes, drowning himself into a sickening loop.</p><p>“Hey, Bri, listen to me…” Roger tried to touch his arm, but Brian violently snapped his hand off.</p><p>“Don’t fucking touch me, Roger. And don't you dare to 'Bri' me. This is all your fault, your damn fault!” he looked angrily at Roger, cursing him… and despising himself “What did you fucking do, Taylor?” he said gruffly and left the rooftop.</p><p>Roger just stood there, speechless.</p><p>His mind was a damn mess too, for God’s sake. He just had some kinky sex with his best mate!</p><p>How could you not be shaken by something like that? He was trying to make things easier for both of them, trying to play it cool because he was as shocked as his mate. <em>His best friend.</em></p><p>But Brian put the blame on him.</p><p> </p><p>That wasn’t fair. That was cruel.</p><p>
  <em>That fucking hurt.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>His fault? His fault, when the one who literally asked for his touch was that stupid poodle?</p><p>Roger looked up to the skies.</p><p>“He’ll call, I bet he’ll call,” He said bitterly, as his eyes filled with rage and doubt.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter IV: A tricky situation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Freddie’s call startled Roger. It was 10 am and the ringing rumbled in his one-bedroom apartment and his head. He almost tripped over his old drums cramped beside his bed and when he reached the phone a calm yet suspicious Freddie asked him to come over in the afternoon to discuss something about their next gig.</p><p> It was weird because Freddie would never call him to talk about band stuff without John and Brian. That had no sense at all, and Roger started to feel a void in his stomach that could be the fear that Freddie knew. Or maybe it could be that he was starving. Yes, that was it: he needed to eat something. He went straight to his mini-fridge and took out the leftovers from several days ago. An alarming kind of green mould (a fungus, presumably) was covering the food: maybe it was spoiled but Roger was a strong believer that fungus was indeed good for his health so, he smelled the plate just in case and ate what once was a fine beef stew made by his mother. Certainly, Roger Taylor was living on the edge. His stomach and liver were not an exception.</p><p>But the void remained and there was not enough beef stew to made it go away. He wasn’t hungry: he had this kind of hole in his guts, something his grandma used to call the collywobbles: that uncomfortable feeling that there was something else behind Freddie’s call and Roger knew it. Maybe Fred had noticed how ridiculously cold Brian acted towards him the day before when he showed up for cleaning. That stupid poodle couldn’t be more obvious: he didn’t say a word to Roger during the five bloody hours they spent in that flat. Maybe Deacy was too sleepy (or just being too Deacy) to notice something at all but Freddie might have been aware that something was odd between Brian and Roger. And yes, maybe he fucked everything up even more with his carefree and chilly attitude (ok, not maybe: he totally screwed it), but at least he was trying that for the sake of both of them.</p><p>Roger sighed and threw himself on his messy bed, looking at the roof where his poster of Jane Fonda was. He was still naked except for his boxers and probably he would be like that for a while. Roger didn’t feel like dressing up, but he felt in the mood to look at the gorgeous Jane Fonda at his ceiling. What a hot babe she is, he thought, and his right hand slowly went down to his crotch. He slipped his hand through his boxers to touch his still soft dick. Roger enjoyed his masturbation sessions just as much he loved sex with women: he wasn’t ashamed of jerking off. It was natural for him and he strongly believed that these private sessions with himself (which had started during his puberty like any healthy boy) were the reason why every woman he shagged would tell everybody how damn good he was at sex. Masturbation wasn’t just stroking his cock desperately for Roger: it was his moment to find and experiment with all his sweet spots and enjoy his body. The young and naughty Mr Taylor had learned to read his own body and everyone else’s. Or at least, he thought so.</p><p>He relaxed his shoulders as fixed his baby blue eyes on Fonda’s breasts. While letting go another deep sigh, Roger started to caress his member the way he always did, the way he knew that would make his body react. In his fantasies, Jane Fonda would appear half naked and submissive, asking him to call her with all sorts of dirty names and she would ask for rough, raw, merciless sex. That was his predilect fantasy but, despite whatever anyone could think about Roger, he was lustful yet no horny or violent during his sexual encounters. In fact, he had been always too afraid or ashamed to ask any of his old girlfriends or even his one-stand shags to make his wild and savage fantasy come true. Being abusive over someone was an abject thing for Roger yet he had always felt secretly turn on by it. So, alone in his small apartment and under the gaze of his Jane Fonda paper doll he could do as much as he desired.</p><p>The whole scenario was already in his mind and it started to play in his imagination like a movie.  Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on his own touch over his skin, but it was useless: his dick was still soft, and it seemed like it was going to be futile to keep going. Just when Roger was decided to give up on his failed private pleasure session, it happened: a flash from two nights ago came to his mind. The drunken memory of Brian clumsily and shyly stroking his member broke the Fonda’s scenario and gave Roger a sudden shudder and felt a deep throb through his dick.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>What the fuck was going on, really.</p><p>He put his hands apart and growled. This had to be something completely normal, he thought. Being with someone of your same sex for the first time was kind of a big deal and his experience was indeed pleasurable. It was logical to think about it and feel aroused by the memories, right? Completely normal.</p><p>Roger decided to abort mission: his private session would have to wait. He got up and started to dress up. The sooner he’d talk with Freddie, the better.</p><hr/><p>“Hi, Roggie. You came too soon. That’s something new coming from you” Freddie said while he was heading to the kitchen as Roger was closing the apartment door.</p><p>“Well, calling me so early in the morning to discuss some band shit without the guys is also something new coming from you, Fred” Roger answered sharply, and Freddie took his right hand to his chest mimicking a dramatic ‘how dare you’ from the kitchen’s door. The blond rolled his eyes and sat on Freddie’s old and brown couch “Mary?”</p><p>“Oh, she’s having some fun with his old friends from Biba’s. They were going to spend the afternoon having tea… and spilling the tea, no doubt about it. I don’t expect her to come home any time soon” Freddie said as he was pouring tea in two old but fancy teacups. He quickly came back to the small living room where Roger was “Lucky you, I’ve already made some tea…”</p><p>“So, you assumed that I wanted tea. What if I wanted booze, huh?” Roger complained rising his eyebrows cheerfully.</p><p>“Oh, darling. I wouldn’t let you drink in the middle of the day. That is not acceptable. There is an implicit rule about drinking, you see: if you drink at parties or shows, that’s classy and charming. If you drink alone or during the day, oh my: that’s gross and probably a sign that you have some issues…” Freddie said as he was taking a sit beside Roger.</p><p>“Oh, please Fred… what with that fucked up logic?” he choked a laugh and shook his head.</p><p>Roger saw how Freddie took his cuppa and started to drink making a pout with his mouth and fixing his gaze on his neatly framed poster of Liza Minelli at the other side of the living room. He is looking for the words to start talking, fuck, I know him too well, Roger thought. He knew his friend a little bit much for his own sake: Freddie was trying to find the way to blurt out everything.</p><p>“ALRIGHT THEN, just spit it” Roger snorted and took his cuppa. Tea was indeed a good idea.</p><p>Freddie put his cuppa apart from his mouth and looked innocently at Roger.</p><p>“Spit what?” he said.</p><p>“I know you know. Though I don’t know how but, I know you bloody know” Roger said and took a long sip from his cuppa.</p><p>“And what do I know specifically?” Freddie put aside his cup of tea, looking at Roger with an inquiring gaze.</p><p>“Oh, fuck. I know you know and by now, you know that I know you know so, stop this bollock and just spit what’s in your head already, would you?” Roger said in the edge of losing his patience and rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Roggie, if this is about me keeping your favourite teddy bear Lennon, I’m deeply sorry. You thought you lost it but when we moved out, I found it and I---” Freddie said dramatically but Roger didn’t let him finish his nonsense.</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, don’t act like a prat, Fred!” Roger went mute for a few seconds “We’ll talk about Lenny later, but you know that is not the issue right now”</p><p>Freddie took both of his hands to his chest affectedly.</p><p>“My dear, I have no idea what you are ta—” Freddie couldn’t go on with his speech.</p><p>“Fuck, I’m talking about me and Brian almost shagging at the party!” Roger shouted and let himself fell against the back of the couch.</p><p>Freddie imposed a calm expression and put gently a hand over Roger’s knee.</p><p>“Can you see how nice is to take this out of your chest, darling? I bet you feel a lot better now. I was just giving your space so this little dirty and juicy secret of yours could come up naturally”</p><p>“Naturally? You pushed me to the core, you little piece of shit!” Roger whined and let out a sigh.</p><p>Both friends spent a few seconds in silence. Then, Freddie broke the weird atmosphere with a knife.</p><p>“It was good?”</p><p>Roger turned slowly his head to his mate.</p><p>“Really? You have witnessed two of your best mates jerking each other and the only question that came to your mind is if it felt good? Really, Fred?” Roger said almost in a whisper, doubtingly. Freddie shrugged his shoulders and his eyes insisted for a response. Roger sighed “It felt good. Too bloody good.”</p><p>“Well, it seemed so…” Freddie said and now he let himself fall against the back of the sofa too.</p><p>“How… I mean…When did you see us?” Roger asked.</p><p>“Well, after a while Mary complained that it was taking you a lot of time or trouble to make Brian come down so, she wanted to check on you. I thought that maybe both of you were getting wasted or having some fun with a couple of birds so, being Mary and Chrissie close friends, I asked her to stay with John and I went up. When I arrived, I saw you too doing your horny thing. I wanted to stay and watch the entire show but, thinking about the band I decided to stay smoking in the middle of the stairs to the rooftop. Mary showed up and I told her Brian was just a bit depressed and you were talking to him. Then we saw this big poodle running down the stairs and well, you can figure out the rest” Freddie said and raised his dark eyebrows.</p><p>“Well, thank you, Sherlock.” Roger mumbled and after a short sigh, he talked again “Thank you, I mean it. Really.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. We’re friends. That’s what friends do” Freddie said “But, really. What the fuck was that, Rog? I thought you were into pussies only.”</p><p>“Well, to be honest, I thought that too but, it seems like we were wrong the whole time. I guess that If I drink a little and I’m in the mood, I can do guys too. Or at least, I’m willing to jerk them off…” Roger couldn’t believe his words. But this was Freddie and he felt no shame: he could tell him how he really felt about that whole messy and tricky situation.</p><p>“That’s good indeed. It means that you have a chance to shag with the entire world population. And with that look of yours you’re heading to success, you lucky bastard” Freddie laughed “But, judging by the way he ran off, Mr Brian Herald May was a little shocked after that. And, oh, the way he avoided you the day after… Even Deacy found it strange.”</p><p>“His second name is Harold, not Herald” Roger corrected.</p><p>“See? You are already so nuts about him” Freddie joked, and Roger gave him a little kick in his ankle.</p><p>“Shut up, wanker. This is fucking serious. After we… you know, we… we finished our business, the situation became weird and tense so, I said jokingly that he would call” Roger said with embarrassment painted all over his face.</p><p>“Really? Really, TAYLOR?” Freddie choked a laugh and then clap his hands “For fuck’s sake, Roger. If it were you and me, you could joke as much as you want because it would be no big deal to me. But this is not me: is Brian Harald ‘Mr I-do-everything-right-I-dare-you-to-question-me-that May’! He had just cheated on his long-time sweetheart and with a man! How can you be so smart and dumb at the same time, Roggie? Really.” Freddie sighed as he took his hands to his eyes.</p><p>“It’s Harold, with an o” Roger mumbled.</p><p>“Whatever his bloody second name is!  The point is that you just shook it off the whole situation like that with Brian! What the heck were you thinking? Oh, I know. You weren’t.” Freddie calmed down a bit “What did he say?”</p><p>“He said it was my fault, though he was the one who asked for a bloody kiss, to begin with.”</p><p>“I knew it. I knew that there was something more between Brian and you.” Freddie smiled mischievously as he shook his head.</p><p>“Please, Fred. There’s nothing more between us! It was just a fling, a one-time thing!” Roger dismissed his friend’s words “But I think we should talk about it. I don’t want this mess to interfere with the band…”</p><p>“Me neither. Of course, you must talk, and you got to do it as soon as possible, dear. We have a lot of shows coming and I don’t want any trouble.” Freddie said as he sat straight on the couch. “And first of all, I don’t want to see any of you troubled…”</p><p>“I want to talk but I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen… It would be stupid.” Roger said and frowned his eyebrows “Besides I feel now pretty curious about myself. I don’t know if this means I’m bisexual or gay or…” thinks briefly about Jane Fonda “Well, I still love pussies, so I guess I’m not gay but, I need… I feel like there is this kind of urge inside me that maybe…and just maybe I’ll need to experiment a little bit this same-sex thing…you know, and I don’t want Brian to hate me for that.”</p><p>Roger’s honest and raw speech took Freddie by surprise.</p><p>“Darling, Brian is such a bolshie when it comes to his emotions or anything beyond his ‘what-is-right’ ideas… He is not going to make it easy for you, and you know that, Roggie.” Freddie’s compassionated voice brought some calm to Roger.</p><p>“I know, Fred. I know. But… I don’t want this to change anything between us and neither I want to act cool and pretending in front of him. He's one of my best mates, you know.”</p><p>Both men sighed and an awkward silence filled the room. It seemed like an eternity until one of them broke the tense atmosphere around.</p><p>“Did you enjoyed it more than what you’re willing to admit, right? Being like that with Brian, I mean.” Freddie whispered, choosing his words consciously.</p><p>Roger just froze. There was no point in lying to Fred, really. They knew each other too damn much.</p><p>“Maybe?” the blond mumbled.</p><p>Freddie sigh loudly and put a hand over his mate’s shoulder.</p><p>“Just one last question.”</p><p>“Whatever you want, Fred. You got all the juicy details by now…” Roger joked bitterly.</p><p>“Why not me?” Freddie said and stroke a subtle and seductive pose.</p><p>Roger choked a laugh.</p><p>“You look like an otter who just tasted lemon and didn’t like it. Not my type, buddy.” Roger said as Freddie pulled an overdramatic face.</p><p>“How dare you, you little piece of shit!” Freddie shouted and punched him in his arm.</p><p>Roger laughed and soon the laughter coming from them both seemed to take away all the worries the blond and Fred were carrying. And for a moment, Roger forgot it all.</p><p>He forgot that he was scared to death about Brian’s reaction.</p><p>He forgot that the fear of losing his friendship with that big and stubborn poodle was big as his doubts.</p><p>He forgot that Deacy would find out eventually and he was terrified about how he was going to react.</p><p>But above it all, he forgot that one thought, the one that had been haunting him for the last couple of days: the thought that being almost held by Brian was probably the hottest and intense experience that he had in his bloody life.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter V: I’ve only got myself to blame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Just as soon as the rehearsal ended, Roger knew that he must talk to Brian before everything could turn worse. It was pretty obvious to everybody in that room that both Roger and Brian were extremely anxious and that led them to lose their beats and notes more than any other rehearsal that they have had.</p><p>John was very understanding of Roger, waiting patiently for him to catch up the beat every time he lost it. A couple of times, John’s eyes stared at Roger with a bit of pity, knowing how damn hard their drummer would work to achieve the perfect sound and harmony. It was clear that something was odd, or even worse, something was off.</p><p>Brian was not an exception. He missed a couple of notes and he played way too slower than ever. Even when he tried to speed up, he screwed it all up even more and, surprisingly for John and Freddie, Roger did not comment on how bloody slow was playing Brian.  If Roger and his sassy mouth were unwilling to put up a fight for the tiniest and stupid things, then something was surely odd. No doubt about it.</p><p>Before Roger could think about how to approach Brian, the sound of Freddie clapping caught his attention.</p><p>“Alright, darlings. It was not our day it seems… Brian, dear, you got lost during ‘Son and daughter’, what happened?” Freddie said as he put his hands on his waist.</p><p>“Sorry, Fred… Guys. I guess I’m a bit tired. I’ve been busy this last week. I couldn’t focus. I’m really sorry” Brian said slightly moving his head and his big black curls as he used to when he was embarrassed or nervous.</p><p>“Oh, it’s ok, darling. Just try to focus next time, ok? And Rog, you pretty boy, how come you lost the beat and even was too bloody slow during your solo in ‘Keep yourself alive’?”</p><p>“Yeah, I totally fucked it up. Sorry. And Deaks, thank you, man. I guess you indeed are a saint. Thanks for coping up with me today” Roger said as he stood up from his seat at the drums.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Roger. It was just a bad day, that’s all. Brian, you too. It’s ok.” John said softly as he took off his bass.</p><p>Freddie went straight to Deacy and hugged him from behind.</p><p>“My cinnamon roll darling! Too pure, too cute. You were flawless, ABSOLUTELY! You deserve all the good things for dealing with this wankers” Freddie said jokingly and John laughed. And when that young and shy man laughed, everything seemed to be all right for the band. He had that refreshing energy, that inner calm that never failed at making the atmosphere lighter and brighter. Roger laughed too and even the overthinker Mr May allowed himself to skip a laugh or two.</p><p>“Ok, I guess we had a Mercury retrograded today, so this is it for the day, folks,” Freddie said looking for cigarettes in his old backpack.</p><p>“Oh, don’t call yourself like that, Fred” Roger said, and Freddie threw his jacket at him. Both men smiled at each other and everything felt better for a couple of seconds.</p><p>“Brian, come with me.  I need to discuss something about your guitar in ‘Son and daughter’” Freddie casually put his hand over Brian's shoulder. The brunet nodded his head and soon both of them were out the room.</p><p>While Roger was taking care of his drums Deacy came closer to him and sit on the floor, near his mate.</p><p>“Hey, Roger. Can I ask you something…? Well, actually I want to ask you two things specifically” John said with his deep and soothing voice.</p><p>“Sure, mate. I can’t assure you that I’d be of some help though but, serve yourself” Roger said smiling without taking his eyes off his drums.</p><p>“Brian and you… Did you guys fight or something like that?” John almost whispered the sentence, trying to be cautious with his words and hoping that Roger would not be upset because of his question.</p><p>Roger took away his eyes from his instrument and turned his head at the ceiling. He knew. It was evident to everyone that they were acting weird. He knew that this question from Deacy would come.</p><p>“Well, yeah. We fought, Deaks” Roger mumbled and tilt a bit his head, now looking at John in the eyes “Is it too obvious?” he said with a half-smile.</p><p>“A bit” John skipped a laugh “Can’t you work it out? I mean, you are best mates. You’ve been together since Smile… And besides the band, you’ve been sharing a lot since like, forever.”</p><p>“It’s true. It’s just… Well, sometimes the more you know a person and the more you get closer to them, your fights tend to be epic, you know? You give them your best shot in the heat of the fight, and you end up saying things that are going to hurt like shit” Roger said and let go a long, deep sigh. He was still near his drums, touching vaguely the surface of the hi-hat.</p><p>John nodded and blinked fast choosing his words in his mind.</p><p>“I know that it ain’t easy but, really: is this problem between Brian and you so impossible to solve? I don’t think so. Even if you steal Chrissie from him, I know that Brian and you could even work that out” John did a pause “Did you steal Chrissie from him?”</p><p>Roger blurted out in laughs. Damn, Deaks. I guess it is totally the opposite, Roger thought.</p><p>“Of course not, John! I have codes, you know. My friends’ girlfriends are out of my sight, no matter what. And remember this: I dated Chrissie’s friend. It would be too much trouble for a shag” Roger nodded his head “It’s more complicated than that…”</p><p>“Bollocks.” John blurted.</p><p>Roger froze. What? Was that Deacy being… aggressive?</p><p>“Pardon me?” the blond almost whispered.</p><p>“Bo – llocks,” John said once again modulating every syllable.</p><p>Roger frowned his eyebrows and before he could even say a word, John started to talk again.</p><p>“I’ve seen you guys. I’ve been watching you interacting for the past two years and a half. Even if you fight, even If you are always complaining about how slow he plays sometimes or how bloody much he overthinks everything, even if he loses it with you every time you get too wasted for a human being or you get too cocky for a person as short as you… That means nothing because you can communicate almost telepathically with just throwing glares or gazes at each other. You are like Ying and Yang; you fucking complement each other… There’s nothing complicated between you both, Roger. This is a pride problem. And please, be honest with me … Is your pride more important than your bond with Brian?” John said quietly.</p><p>The blond was speechless. Deacy was one of a kind indeed. He could stay silent for almost a month but when he opened his mouth some sort of an epiphany would come out and you just couldn’t ignore him or his words. This shy young man was like a diamond in the rough in so many and mysterious ways.</p><p>“I think… I think you’re right. It is a pride thing. Maybe a little bit deeper than that but for sure we have a pair of big and cocky egos, too bloody big and cocky for our own sake” Roger choked a bitter laugh and looked into Deacy’s eyes “Thank you, lad. I didn’t notice that myself.”</p><p>“John Richard Deacon, born on August the 19th, 1951. At your service” John said jokingly and both men smiled.</p><p>Roger felt relieved but not only for the advice: Deacy seemed to be a part of the band at last. At first, his extremely quiet and introverted personality was what they needed to find equilibrium between his three strong and narcissistic personalities (not to mention the obvious and great talent he had). But as the time passed, Roger was worried about Deacy feeling like an outsider (or at least, that was what Roger feared), but now John had found his place in the band and that was a big relief for Roger.</p><p>“You said you have one more question. What is it?” Roger said as he was searching for a cigar in his pocket.</p><p>“Oh, that. Uhm… I’ve met… I’ve met a girl at the party.” John said shyly while his eyes were looking at the floor.</p><p><em>Oh, isn’t this adorable?</em> Roger thought and a big, mischievous smile started to make its way through his lips.</p><p>“Well, young Mr Deacon… That’s interesting! Who’s the lucky bird, huh?” Roger said and punched softly Deacy’s shoulder.</p><p>“Shut up!” John laughed nervously “Her name is Veronica, but she told me to call her Ronnie. She graduated from Chrissie’s High School. She is nice and… well, she asked me out and I said yes, but I have no idea what to do… I guess last time I went on a date I was sixteen. I don’t know. I’m such a loser” he scratched the back of his head as his face turned slightly red.</p><p>“No, you are not! Come on, I’ll buy you a drink or two. I can give you some advice… Some really good advice. I can tell this Ronnie bird is something special to you” Roger said as he was picking up his things “Just help me to put this crap in the car. We’ll say goodbye to the guys on our way out”</p><p>Deacy nodded and soon they were off. A long afternoon of drinks and a Master Class with the bird’s enchanter Roger Taylor waited for him.</p><hr/><p>As soon as they got out from the studio and Freddie lighted up his cigar at the back of the building, Brian couldn’t help himself and started to blabber.</p><p>“Fred, I’m deeply sorry. I know we got a gig in two weeks and our first tour is coming, but I prom—” Brian couldn’t finish.</p><p>“Oh, darling! For Christ’s bloody nails! How can you be so dense! That’s not why I brought you here” Freddie blurted out dramatically.</p><p>Brian spent five whole seconds staring at Freddie with a confused gaze.</p><p>“What? Oh, is the Christ’s nails thing, isn’t it? I’ve just made it up. Don’t you think it’s powerful? Very Spanish” Freddie said proudly and took a quick smoke.</p><p>“No- no, Freddie. That’s not… I mean, yeah, but that’s not…” Brian shook his head briefly “What do you mean about me being dense?”</p><p>“Dear, Rog and you being awfully distracted today have nothing to do with Mercury retrograded… I think it’s more like a Taylor retrograded for you, am I wrong?” Freddie inquired, letting go of his cigar’s ashes with a subtle movement of his wrist.</p><p>Brian felt a void in his stomach. Was it that obvious? He was pretty sure that he had hidden his uneasiness around Roger like a boss. Ok, they made some mistakes at the rehearsal but maybe it was because they were tired. Nothing else.</p><p>“Don’t make that face, May. Something happened between Rog and you and it’s more obvious than an elephant in a shop window” Freddie said.</p><p>The void in Brian’s stomach grew deeper. “Something happened between Rog and you…”  Damn. There’s no way he knows, right? Brian thought and tried to calm himself down.</p><p>“I… I don’t know what you mean, Fred, I— “Brian mumbled nervously.</p><p>Freddie rolled his eyes and thought about how hard it would be for the poor Roger to deal with Brian ‘Mr Serial Denier’ May.</p><p>“You two have fought, Brian. We could felt it in that room” Freddie said and took another smoke. It was better to tell Brian this that letting him know that he saw him kissing fiercely Roger almost a week ago.</p><p>Brian let go a sigh of relief.</p><p>“Oh… Well. Yes, we had a fight a couple of days ago… But…” Brian took his hands to his head “But I really thought it wouldn’t affect our music… Now that you mentioned it, I guess… I guess that our awkwardness maybe had something to do with the stupid mistakes we did today…”</p><p>“‘Maybe’, Brian? Just ‘maybe’? Of course, it did! Rog and you are bloody best mates. You’ve been nail and dirt since I’ve met you guys! If you have a fight, and I presume it is a big one, of course, it would affect the band!” Freddie said affectedly and as soon as he saw Brian putting down his guilty gaze, he smoothed his tone “Listen Bri. You have been together for a long time, since Smile… You were working and supporting each other during the last five years or so. You have a connection, a strong bond between you… Even if he would ever shag Chrissie, you’d still be able to forgive him.”</p><p>Brian let go a bitter laugh. <em>The problem is that he didn’t shag Chrissie: WE almost shag</em>, Brian thought. But Fred had a point. Roger was like a brother to him and that was probably why all this bloody mess affected him that bad. The same-sex thing wasn’t really an issue. Being in the rock scene had taught Brian that love could come in any shape and really, being with a man wasn’t the main issue here. The problem was that the man was Rog, his mate, his brother, his partner. And in the top of that, he had cheated on Chrissie and she didn’t deserve that, she was the most amazing girlfriend that he ever had.</p><p>And, like the strawberry of the cake, the fact that he totally enjoyed all the things that happened that night with Roger was a hard pill to swallow. A dangerous door had been open, and Brian wanted so badly to close it that his rage targeted his mate.</p><p>“I… I know. I don’t enjoy being like this with Roger, trust me… And…after we… after we fought, I put the blame on him, and I know that it wasn’t fair. I’m to blame too” Brian sighed and didn’t dare to look into Freddie’s eyes.</p><p>“Darling, it’s ok. I do care about the band, but I care about you, Rog and Deacy the most. And I don’t want to see any of you guys like this. Promise me that you are going to take the first step, ok? That you’re going to talk with Roger so you both can sort this bloody mess out” Freddie said and put his both hands over Brian’s shoulders.</p><p>The brunet smiled and nodded his head. Freddie was right. They had to find the way to get out from all this mess and he knew he was the one who had to take the first step. Freddie let his shoulders go and the back door opened. John and Roger were talking cheerfully and carrying their stuff.</p><p>“Guys, we’re going. Guess we’ll see you tomorrow at 10 am?” Roger asked.</p><p>“Of course, pretty boy. At 10 am. Bring some coffee” Freddie chuckled, and Roger rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Alright, but you got to bring something to eat, wanker” the blond shouted, and Freddie pinched Brian’s butt.</p><p>“OUCH!” Brian whined and all the boys looked at him. Freddie’s prying gaze reminded him that the bloody pinch was a friendly hint to make him do what he got to do.</p><p>“Brian, are you alright?” John asked frowning his eyebrows.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, I just remembered something. Um, Roger… Can I drop by your flat this evening? There’s something I want to discuss with you… Is it alright?” Brian asked nervously as he was caressing subtly his pinched butt. Damn Freddie.</p><p>Roger froze and before he could answer, John talked.</p><p>“Oh, of course. Rog and I are going to grab some drinks, but he just told me he will spend the night at home, writing some stuff he has on his mind. Right, Rog?” John put his hand firmly on Roger’s shoulder and the blond got the message.</p><p>“Ah, yeah. Right. Just come by. I’ll be at home… Writing some stuff I have on my mind” Roger answered like a lousy robot. John and Freddie rolled their eyes and they felt like they were in High School again.</p><p>“Well, see you then” Brian smiled awkwardly, and Roger waved his hand at Fred and him. He got in his car with John and as the automobile was going away, Brian thought how he wanted to ride that car again and to have his friend back.</p><hr/><p>The flat was a mess but that didn’t bother Roger. It was 8:30 pm and what was really bothering him was this stupid thing of being so anxious about Brian coming to his place.</p><p>Brian had been at his place countless times. They even shared Roger’s bed a couple of nights, when the brunet was too tired or too wasted to come back his own flat after a long night having fun at downtown or after a long day working in their music. Now everything seemed different and Roger knew why: that night. He sighed loudly and look at the ceiling, looking for Jane Fonda.</p><p>“How do you think this is going to end, babe?” Roger mumbled softly “Yup, I agree. It’s gonna be hard…”</p><p>Three knocks on the door interrupted the conversation with the blond and hot paper babe that lived in his ceiling.</p><p>“Who’s there?” Roger asked, even knowing who might be.</p><p>“It’s me, Bri…an”</p><p>Roger took a deep breath and opened the door.</p><p>“Hi, man. Come in” Roger said trying to act cool… but not too cool as the time he said, “I bet you’ll call’. Not that kind of chilly Roggie: that was a mistake. He had learned.</p><p>Brian came into the flat and stared at the Jane Fonda poster for a few seconds. It was getting old and you could tell by the fading colours it had. Once Roger told him that he got that poster while he was a teen in Truro and since then, she had been his company during his lonely (and not so lonely) times. Roger was straight as a fucking arrow… So was Brian.</p><p>Then, how the hell they’ve ended up caught in this situation?</p><p>“Wanna something to drink?” Roger asked and sat on his old green couch.</p><p>“No, thanks, I’m alright” Brian answered and took a sit on an old chair beside the round and small table that was between the couch and the kitchen’s door. Roger’s flat was pretty small, and the living room was also a dining room and bedroom. It was kind of impossible not to feel cramped in that place “Hey, Rog… I’m… I’m sorry for the things I said that night” Brian mumbled while his eyes were stuck on the floor.</p><p>Roger sighed and looked at Brian. He couldn’t believe it: the poodle was saying sorry. And that not only broke a bit the ice between them but also made Roger realise how willing was Brian to fix the things that were risking their friendship. And that was more than enough for him.</p><p>“It’s ok. I’m… I’m sorry too. I tend to trivialize everything and maybe I sounded like I didn’t care but that’s far from how I felt…and from how I’m feeling even now, you know?” Roger said with his raspy voice, trying to find Brian’s eyes with his.</p><p>“I know, Roger. I mean, how long have we been friends? Five years or so? I know that you always use your jokes to deal with almost everything. It’s just that I was too overwhelmed. I mean, we’d just… you know” Brian’s eyes left the floor and for the first time they dared to look into Roger’s blue gaze.</p><p>“We’d just kissed and jerked each other, yes. I’m very aware of that” Roger blurted that sentence out and choked a laugh “I didn’t know I could do that with a man, to be honest”</p><p>“Me neither” Brian mumbled. It was easy for Roger to put in words what happened but for him, it was still too hard to talk openly about it. It was more than enough with the memories from that night that were still playing vividly in his mind “We should just forget about it, you know. We’re both straight and---”</p><p>“Brian, I’m not gonna pretend it didn’t happen. For me it was, and it is a big deal. It means that maybe I could be bisexual and for fuck’s sake, that’s big shit for me” Roger said firmly “And if I want to be as I always have been with you, I just can’t pretend that night didn’t happen. I hope we can move on from here, that we can joke about it someday and that’s it.”</p><p>“Roger let’s be reasonable here: you love women. Look at that gorgeous Jane Fonda above your bed. Remember all the hot babes you shagged and how you damn wanted them… What happened that night doesn’t mean that you’re bisexual” Brian said, “We can pretend it didn’t happen, for the sake of both.”</p><p>Roger stood up from the couch.</p><p>“No, I just don’t want to, and I just can’t. I refuse to do that. If you want to do that alright, then. But our friendship will be fake. Move on doesn’t mean pretend it didn’t happen” Roger sighed and roll his eyes “It fucking felt good, isn’t it?”</p><p>Brian was almost speechless. He passed a hand through his curls, trying to avoid the sensation of running away from that place, from that moment.</p><p>Roger started to come closer to his friend.</p><p>“Because it felt good for me. So bloody good that I don’t know how to deal with it” the blond blurted and his eyes fixed in Brian’s.</p><p>“It was just a biological response. It felt good. That’s it. Doesn’t mean anything and I insist, the best we can do is just pretend it didn’t happen” Brian said, taking away his eyes from Roger’s.</p><p>“Ok, if you want to deny everything is fine. But for me, that’s not the way. And let me ask you something. If I start trying new things, like being with other men, would you do the same? Would you deny me? Would you pretend not seeing my sexuality? Would a friend do that?” Roger inquired.</p><p>“Oh, please, Roger! Don’t say that! Of course, I wouldn’t! But you are taking that night too seriously. You definitely are not bisexual or whatsoever!” Brian stood up and passed his both hands through his hair.</p><p>“Don’t do that, Brian. Don’t just assume things about me as if I were you. After that night, I’m sure that---” Roger couldn’t finish his sentence.</p><p>“Roger, it was a stupid, bloody mistake. We were drunk, we have been under a lot of pressure lately and when we relaxed, we…” Brian tried to find the right sentences for his lousy denial speech while his hands were moving in circles as if the words that he was missing could be caught in the air “We just relieved each other. That was it. Let’s just forget about it.” It sounded weird and absurd, but he tried to believe his own words. He needed to believe them. Brian was looking at the floor cowardly wishing with all his heart that Roger would just forget about it all. He knew that every word that came out from his mouth was an elaborate piece of his denial puzzle, every bloody sentence was part of his pathetic and lame speech to convince himself that what happened between them was meaningless.</p><p>“I… I know that this is harder for you to deal with because you have cheated on Chrissie and I feel like shit about it too” Roger sincerely said with a compassionated gaze.</p><p>“I didn’t cheat on her, Roger” Brian said bluntly while looking into his friend’s eyes.</p><p>Roger choked a laugh.</p><p>“Well… Mate, we fucking kissed and jerked each other, I mean---”</p><p>“You are a man, Roger. You don’t count as a fling” Brian blurted that internal spell he had been repeating to himself for the past three days. “I did not cheat on Chrissie.”</p><p>“That’s bollocks, Brian! We—” Roger couldn’t finish his sentence.</p><p>“For God’s sake, Roger! You are a man” Brian shouted to bury Roger’s words “Do you want to know so badly why all of this happened, huh? Do you want to know what I really think about this whole damn nightmare? That is your fucking fault, lad.” Brian’s rage against himself started to flow through his poisonous words and they have found a new target “I was a bit drunk and stressed as hell. Chrissie wasn’t there but oh, Goldilocks appeared on the rooftop. Face it, Roger. You can shag all the women you want, but you look quite feminine, don’t you think?” Brian’s voice tone was mischievous and his scornful gaze pierced Roger “So, I was mistaken. For a couple of minutes, I thought that you were a nice bird. You can’t be surprised: you have been hit by lads a lot, honestly. Haven’t you?”</p><p><em>This is not Brian, this can’t be him</em>, Roger thought as he was trying to remain calm. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He was starting to feel the urge of breaking Brian’s cocky mouth: maybe if he punched him strong enough to make Brian’s lips swollen and bleeding, that poodle would stop blabbing his hurtful nonsense for at least one minute. But for once, life was asking Roger to be the mature one on this. Life has a wicked sense of humour, indeed.</p><p>“I even told you that I wasn’t Chrissie and you kept going, Brian. And you were the one who literally asked for a bloody kiss. And for fuck’s sake, I have a dick! You can’t say that you were mistaken all the way!” Roger shouted and Brian harshly put his hand on his mouth to shut the blond. He pushed him strong enough to make Roger’s tumbling on his feet as Brian strength dragged him to the point that his back hit the wall behind them.  A choked growl came from Roger as his eyes opened wide and shocked: this was not Brian… at all.</p><p>“Just shut the fuck up, would you? It was nothing and we won’t talk about this never again, you understand? Am I making myself clear, Roger?” Brian mumbled with a low and emotionless tone that made Roger’s gut sting. This was not the quiet and well-mannered young lad he knew. He could barely recognise his fellow behind those angry hazel eyes.</p><p>Brian felt his bitter frustration running through his veins, boiling his blood. Why Roger couldn’t just let that night go? Brian himself couldn’t forget it but, oh, how badly he wanted to. Something was released deep inside him that day, but that thing unleashed was a secret that should had been kept bottled forever.</p><p>And then, he felt something grabbing the arm whose hand was shutting his best friend’s mouth. He suddenly noticed also Roger’s eyes, those baby blue eyes that were now filled with tears and rage, surrounded by the now prominent veins in his mate front head that seemed to crown his angry yet shocked gaze. That something pinching his arm was Roger’s attempt to get free from Brian’s violence.</p><p>Roger was trying to breathe. That revelation fell into the brunet’s mind and he released his mate quickly. Brian felt himself like going out from a trance, a violent and dark trance that made him do what he never ever meant to do. He had actually hurt Roger and while the blond was coughing still against the wall, Brian could see the red marks of his hand over the pinkish and soft Roger’s skin around his mouth.</p><p>What have I done, for fuck’s sake? Brian thought and again that numbing feeling through his hands and body appeared. It was an overwhelming panic mixing with pain and regret. A new cocktail that he would have preferred never to have tasted.</p><p>Roger stopped coughing and slowly raised his head to find Brian’s face. His blue eyes were now reddish, watery and the anger was filling his gaze.</p><p>So, this is how is going to be, Roger thought bitterly.</p><p>“Rog, please… I… I didn’t know why I… Oh, God, please—” Brian frantic speech was interrupted.</p><p>“Get the fuck out of here. Now” Roger said in a deep voice that made Brian almost shiver. He froze and couldn’t move. Being conscious of his own violence and being aware that he could have had hurt Roger badly was a zillion times worse than jerking off with your best mate. That was for sure.</p><p>“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, NOW” Roger shouted and hit the wall with his right fist.</p><p>Brian reacted and left the flat as fast as he could. He didn’t know how but, he left the building with his legs feeling like jelly and the guilt pinching his throat, making these heavy and hot tears flowing from his hazel eyes.</p><p><em>Sorry, Fred. I fucked up everything. This time, I’ve only got myself to blame,</em> Brian thought as he passed near a bunch of teen boys laughing and joking at some random porch, a sound that seemed to follow and haunt Brian, like the echoes of the happier old days.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter VI: Learning to care for each other</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I guess that our plan didn’t work, Deacy…” Freddie said looking at the seven tiles resting on his Scrabble rack.</p><p>“I guess not. Judging by the faces we saw today, we can say they screwed it up again. I’m not surprised though” John almost muttered while he touched briefly his letter tiles, thinking of possible combinations.</p><p>“It was Brian, dear. That kid is a Rubik cube when it comes to his feelings. Did you see the frightened puppy face and how he was looking at the grumpy ferret during the whole rehearsal? He had the guilt painted all over” Freddie placed his tiles on the board under Deacy’s conscious gaze.</p><p>“Give Rog some credit. Maybe it was not <em>entirely</em> his fault this time, but he’s stubborn. And I have no clue about what they are fighting over but knowing Roger it is possible that he was also pretty bolshie about his perspective on this issue, I don’t know. They’re good lads, I wish we could help them a little more… Like a friendly intervention, the four of us?” John frowned and started to think. It was his turn.</p><p>Freddie looked at John. Oh, how precious he was. A nice guy with an even nicer heart and, on top of that, an incredible bassist. His fluffy, long and hazelnut brown hair was his only rebellious feature. An intervention… That could lead to a Third World War, no doubt about it. One thing was for sure though, if John and he pulled and intervention, he would insist on hiring a painter to immortalize the moment: the ferret throwing his drums all over the place, a horrified John behind him with his hands towards the ceiling, the poodle running with his curls on the air and him, His Majesty, sitting on the old armchair in their studio, with a crown and a red velvet cape over his shoulders, laughing at them. Just like a Renaissance painting.</p><p>Oh, Deacy… Was he ready to know the truth about this May vs. Taylor issue? (Or May OVER Taylor issue, Freddie thought and skipped a mischievous laugh. <em>Oh, Lord. You’re so bloody funny, Mercury, </em>the outrageous brunet thought to himself.</p><p>“What? What is so funny? Oh, wait… You’re cheating, aren’t you?” John piped.</p><p>“Oh, no, my lovely boy! That’s not it. It’s just that… is it my turn already?”</p><p>Deacy let go a deep sigh while nodding his head. Fred and the boys tended to think that he was too naïve for everything and they were totally wrong. John never denied the fact that he preferred not to meet new people and that the harassing of some groupies was honestly a bother to him. It was not fear: he just didn’t know how to act or how to get away from situations of excessive social exposure, so he looked scared when he actually felt uncomfortable.</p><p>It was the same with this sort of thing. John could sense that the fight between Rog and Brian was something <em>really</em> serious. And he also felt that whatever the problem was, it involved some tricky incident that he still couldn’t figure out. At the top of everything, he knew that Fred <em>knew. </em>He was just playing dumb and maybe overestimating John’s comprehension. That last thing annoyed John.</p><p>“Well, yes. While you were absorbed in some wicked fantasy of yours that I don’t want to know, I played my tiles” John said and crossed his arms. He had learned to read Fred too well by now, and that bastard was for sure laughing about his own monkey business.</p><p>Freddie smiled and winked an eye to his friend. An annoyed John reminded him that he was quiet but not absent-minded. Oh, this was going to be even more exciting then, Freddie thought. He looked at the empty letters’ bag and his rack. His smile grew wider. In the centre of the board, John had put the word ‘Friends’. Freddie played all his seven tiles using a letter from that word:</p><p>      F</p><p>      R</p><p>      I</p><p>      E</p><p>      N</p><p>      D</p><p> B I S E X U A L</p><p> </p><p>“B-I-S-E-X-U-A-L…” John read slowly and nodded his head “Lucky bastard… You ended the game…”</p><p>“You can’t always win, darling”</p><p>“It’s ok. I like to let you win from time to time…” John winked and smiled “Bisexual… You don’t hear that word very often…”</p><p>“Oh, you will…” Freddie mumbled.</p><p>“What did you say?” John asked with a faked innocent voice tone while he was collecting the letter tiles.</p><p>“I said ‘Do you want some tea?’ “Freddie said quickly.</p><p>“I want you to spill the tea” John whispered.</p><p>“Pardon me? Couldn’t hear you, darling” Freddie frowned.</p><p>“Oh, I said that I’d love a cup of tea” John nodded with a suspicious smirk.</p><p><em>You heard me perfectly well and so did I, dear. But if you want to play, let’s play,</em> Freddie thought amused. Oh, this was going to be so much fun, indeed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Roger run his fingers through his hair, touching the back of his head. He could sense a little bump that hurt a bit when the tip of his fingers touched it.</p><p>“Wanker” Roger said though he was alone in the back alley behind their rehearsal room, smoking his twentieth cigarette of the day (and it was only noon). This time he couldn’t stand or stare at Brian during the whole morning. He couldn’t fake it, he couldn’t play ‘the chill guy’. He was unbelievably angry and, contrary to what people would think of him when he was <em>extremely</em> mad he would shut himself down. He was explosive, of course, but when something really affected him, he would chew on his frustration and wrath in silence, alone.</p><p>Brian hit him. And it wasn’t a game: he had wanted to <em>hurt</em> him. He almost choked him, and that thought made Roger smash his cigarette against the wall violently, hurting his knuckles.</p><p>“Fuck!” Roger mumbled as he saw the reddish, ripped skin “Oh, great. This is wonderful, isn’t it?” the blond whispered ironically. He licked the wounds on his knuckles and while he tasted his blood’s coppery taste, memories of the previous night flooded his mind. Brian had lost it again and it had been quite frightening. The way he put his hand roughly against Roger’s mouth was far from the way he caressed his lips almost a week ago. Of course, Roger understood the circumstances weren’t the same, but this angry and violent Brian was something that he had not seen before, not even in the most stressful times that they had shared in the past five years.</p><p>You didn’t have to be Sherlock to realize what triggered Brian. Still licking his bleeding knuckles, Roger thought that maybe he pushed the poodle to the edge when he insisted about not pretending it didn’t happen. Maybe if Roger had agreed on that, Brian wouldn’t have become Mr Hyde and the hideous choking scene would have never existed.</p><p>But that wasn’t and would never ever be a choice for Roger. No matter how confused he was, he couldn’t deny that night and he couldn’t lie to himself. And of course, he couldn’t pretend in front of his best mate. Oh, his best friend… How could it be that after all the drama, Roger was still considering Brian his best lad? The bump at the back of his head didn’t hurt as much as his rejection and his despiteful gaze. Roger sighed, wondering how the hell they could figure all this mess out. He was willing to forgive Brian because he<em> needed</em> him.</p><p>Wait. <em>Need</em>? The implicit thought of him needing Brian, and the uncomfortable feeling of desire that pinched his guts every bloody time he would recall that night, made Roger cough as if the sound coming from his mistreat lungs could bury the embarrassment of being so conscious about the whole <em>Poodle gate</em>.</p><p>And as if his troubled thoughts had the power of invocation, the back door opened and there he was: Brian.</p><p><em>The hysterical poodle arrives</em>, Roger thought bitterly.</p><p>The brunet was clearly nervous and the long, slim fingers on both his hands interlaced slightly frantically. He noticed the injured knuckles and furrowed his brow.</p><p>“Hey, Roger. Everything all right?” he piped, pointing his index finger to Roger’s hands, trying hard not to show how worried he was. Brian would find out years later that faking it and playing <em>cool </em>were out of his social skills, and he would learn that Groucho Marx was right too: <em>it is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.</em></p><p>Roger’s angry gaze was a not so friendly reminder that his question was abominable nonsense since he almost choked him last night. The blond experienced in the flesh another undoubted truth manifested by Groucho Marx: <em>he may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot but don’t let that fool you. He really is an idiot</em>.</p><p>“Did your mother dropped you when you were a baby, <em>lad</em>?” Roger asked sarcastically while he frowned his eyebrows.</p><p>“Wha—I don’t— Ah, oh” Brian babbled, and his shamed gaze landed on the floor. It was a stupid question coming from someone who almost choked you and pushed you against a wall. The brunet sighed and tried to talk again “Roger, I don’t---”</p><p>He couldn’t finish. The blond passed through, pushing him aside with his right shoulder and stating implicitly that he had no interest in his excuses or whatever.</p><p><em>Damn¸</em> Brian thought, shutting his eyes and contracting his jaw. And once more, he felt hopelessly lost searching for the words that he couldn’t find and that could never be enough.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You punched Rog? For real?” Chrissie piped and immediately his eyes went from her book to Brian’s face. They were in the living room of their flat, on their deep purple couch. Chrissie had her legs over Brian’s lap.</p><p>“I did not punch him. I pushed him a little too rough and I grabbed him by the collarbone…” Brian distorted the truth and took a sip of his cuppa.</p><p>He had to share his frustration with someone. Roger was out of the question. Fred too: he would yell at him and then kill him, and he would be right: Brian had acted like an idiot. And John…oh, he really didn’t want to drag John even deeper into his drama. And to be honest, he was friends with Deacy, but their intimacy was not quite there yet.</p><p>So, Chrissie would have to be the one to listen to him and calm his anxiousness right now. If the problem was different, Rog or Chrissie would have been his options, no doubt about it. But in this situation, asking Chrissie for advice was kind of… cynical, at the less.</p><p>“Well, that’s so <em>not you</em>, Brimi,” Chrissie said quietly, frowning her eyebrows “I mean, since when you use violence to solve things? And with Roger, for God’s sake, he’s your best friend! What did you fight about?”</p><p>Brian choked with his tea and cough a little.</p><p>“Oh my, honey. Are you alright?” Chrissie asked concerned, leaning closer to his boyfriend.</p><p>Brian dismissed politely her approach and tried to compose himself.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Chrissie. I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you the truth. I can’t do this any more horrible for you.</em>
</p><p>“It’s just… a band thing. It’s about a song and its tempo. You know, he always thinks I’m slow and so… This time we both got pretty intense and I couldn’t handle it” Brian half-lied. It was true: he couldn’t stand the intensity. He was unable to handle the facts and how Roger was determined not to forget that night. He couldn’t bear the mess of his own feelings and once again, he put the blame on Roger. But this time the consequences were more regrettable because of his aggression and that was only making things worse for everyone.</p><p>“You should apologize as soon as you can. I know you regret this and I’m sure Roger knows that too, but you <em>must </em>apologize properly. And please, try to chill out a bit. You’ve been pretty tense since the party” Chrissie said, and her right hand reached Brian’s hand on her leg “I’m worried about you, love. I don’t want you to become someone different because you’re stressed… That is not right…”</p><p>Brian looked at Chrissie’s face. She was indeed a terrific girl. Maybe she was not the hottest girl around, but that was never a priority for him. Chrissie was a beauty in her own way and that kind of personal, inner beauty was the one Brian was always searching in people, things and experiences. The beauty that could melt and touch his heart. Therefore, the most important thing about Chrissie was her sweetness and how supportive she could be. She was honest and Brian knew that if he was wrong about something, she would tell him.</p><p>Chrissie was a little naïve, but she was smart, cute and easy-going. Just the girl next door, the one that would give anything for the ones she loved.</p><p><em>I don’t deserve you at all, Chrissie, </em>Brian thought while a sad smile started to grow on his face.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Brimi. Everything is going to be alright. You’ll see. It’s Roger. You can’t be apart for too long. You guys are thick as thieves!” Chrissie laughed.</p><p>Brian felt a void in his stomach.</p><p><em>Oh, love. You have no idea, </em>he thought sadly as he tried to pretend a laugh that could sound convincing.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It was already 9 pm and the band had just finished their rehearsal. Several days had passed since the incident in Roger’s flat and now they were all reunited in the small kitchen of their rented studio.</p><p>         Roger was sitting messily in an old wooden chair, playing with a broken drumstick while Brian was pretending to make some tea at the stove. John was leaning on the door’s frame with crossed arms and thinking how pathetic the view was when Freddie entered flamboyantly into the room. He looked around, amused. They were not too far from Freddie’s Renaissance paint fantasy, certainly.</p><p>“Oh, my. The energy in this room is <em>overwhelming</em>. And not in a good way, precisely” Freddie said as he made his way through “And sweet Jesus, why is Brian making tea?”</p><p>“Because I thought <em>maybe</em> all of you could enjoy a warm cup of delicious tea?” Brian spouted sarcastically and turned back at Freddie.</p><p>“Oh, dear. I love you, I really do, but <em>delicious tea</em> and you just don’t match in the same sentence. Your tea is horrible” Freddie said quickly and pushed Brian softly “I’m doing this for our sake, please. Just sit there, next to Rog”</p><p>Brian rolled his eyes and Roger didn’t bother to look up. He heard everything: he was just pretending not to. It was better to play dumb with that crappy broken drumstick than to put up a fight about how badly he wanted that poodle away from him. He was tired, awfully tired of all that crap.</p><p>A calm yet jaded voice came from the door’s frame.</p><p>“He won’t sit next to Roger. The kids are still fighting, Fred” John said and uncrossed his arms. His suddenly deep tone made even Roger look up.</p><p>“You know, I’m really fed up with all this shit. The show at Newcastle was an absolute nightmare. Yes, we sound good and the show was indeed good, but the backstage was a pain in the arse” John stated, visibly annoyed but not enough to lose his temper “I know I’m the youngest, I know I’m the ‘spaced out’, the <em>naïve</em>, the cinnar… cincinnal… roll or something—”</p><p>“Cinnamon roll, darling. Cinnamon roll” Freddie corrected him with a wide smile.</p><p>“Well, whatever that is. I know you see me as the youngest and I know that I was the last joining this band, but the way I see it, you two fighting and playing dumb will mess everything up. And I’m not going to sit in the first row just to see how all the effort we put on Queen goes to hell” John looked into Brian’s eyes and then into Roger’s “I don’t know what the fuck happened between you two but it is time to sort that shit out. I’m done with you, <em>brats.</em> We’ll have our very first tour in September and we just can’t let this go all to pot”</p><p>Roger coughed and quickly sat straight in the old wooden chair. He felt embarrassed because John was right. They had been working so damn hard for this since Smile, and now a stupid fight between their egos could destroy everything they had achieved until that very moment.</p><p>Brian passed his long fingers through his dark curls and let out a sigh. He could sense that Roger’s embarrassment was as intense as the shame he was feeling coming down from his blushed cheeks to his weak knees. He suddenly felt the urge to do something about it, but he just didn’t know <em>what or how.</em></p><p>Freddie broke the silence while bringing the kettle to the table.</p><p>“Our wise man has spoken… and jokes aside, mates” Freddie looked at Roger and Brian seriously “Quit it now. Just put your shit together already”</p><p>Brian and Roger didn’t even question John or Fred. They were in the wrong and as much as they’d like to defend themselves, they couldn’t.  They were acting like two angry pests and this issue between them could not last any longer.</p><p>Freddie offered a cup of tea to John, who accepted it with a half-smile and a soft <em>thanks</em>, visibly more relaxed now that he had spoken.</p><p>“Don’t pour tea for Brian and me. We’re off for drink” Roger said bluntly and stared into Brian’s eyes “Right, mate?”</p><p>That <em>mate</em> flooded from his brain to his lips naturally and Brian felt a bit dizzy when at hearing it. That simple word was a tiny yet warm piece of what their relationship had been until that night. <em>The </em>night. It felt like coming back to consciousness after a long time of confusion.</p><p>“Yes, right…Uhm, we… we’re off then” Brian answered quickly and walked to the kitchen’s door “Let’s grab our stuff, then.”</p><p>Roger nodded and dropped the broken drumstick on the table. He followed Brian’s steps and they both muttered a shy <em>see ya </em>as they passed next to John and Freddie.</p><p> Deacy sat with his cuppa as he watched their friends go through the door. He picked up from the table the broken drumstick.</p><p>“Well done, <em>dad</em>,” Freddie said playfully as he took a sip of his tea and sat on the table, just in front of John.</p><p>“Someone had to do it. The sooner, the better” John said with a half-smile.</p><p>“True. We cannot fail <em>now</em>, definitely” Freddie said with a sombre tone in his voice.</p><p>“Statistically, most bands don’t fail,” John said touching the broken side of the drumstick.</p><p>“Then what happens to them?” Freddie asked.</p><p>“They break up, Fred” Deacy stated.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter VII: It can happen to anyone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ok, here is the new chapter!</p><p>I hope you enjoy it, and If you do, please comment and/or leave kudos.</p><p>Thank you for reading &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You'll find in this chapter verses from the following songs:</p><p>Paint it, Black - The Rolling Stones.<br/>Rock and Roll - Led Zeppelin</p><p>I wanna thank my beta and friend Adri for being soooo patient with me &lt;3<br/>And also, thanks to my friend Mico, who inspired me a lot &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Chapter VII: It can happen to anyone</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>August 1973</em>
</p><p>Roger let out a quiet sigh while his eyes focused on the road. He and Brian left together in Rog’s old and ramshackle Dodge. The car was noisy and it didn’t help that the drums were in the trunk. </p><p>“Fuck, I gotta go slower,” Roger mumbled.</p><p>“You can leave your drums in the rehearsal room, you know,” Brian said cautiously, without taking his eyes from the road.</p><p>“Like I would do that. That place is not ours and I don’t trust that tiny room where we’re supposed to leave our stuff,” Roger glanced at Brian from the corner of his eye “I don’t see you leaving your Special Red there…”</p><p>“Oh, no. That’s no place for the old lady, absolutely no” Brian chimed dramatically,  which caused an honest laugh from Roger. It startled his friend.</p><p>It had been a while since he heard Roger laughing so carelessly and that somewhat gave him confidence. About them, about the future and about that imminent talk between them. Brian smiled shyly and tilted his head a little towards Roger.</p><p>“Where can we get a drink?” the brunet asked.</p><p>“Let’s just get some at the old liquor store near my place,” Roger answered.</p><p>“Are we going to your place?” Brian gasped, feeling a pinch in his guts. </p><p>“Chrissie is at yours, right? And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to talk about this at Johnny’s pub neither,” Roger said calmly, eyes still on the road.</p><p>Brian nodded in agreement, biting his lower lip softly as he realised that they already close to Roger’s place. </p><p>He rested his head on the window as he tried to see through the night outside and the blurry darkness in his mind.</p><hr/><p>They arrived at the small and messy apartment and it took them a while to place Roger’s drum kit in its spot. It was hard to be a drummer when you had no place to leave your stuff. Roger always comforted himself thinking someday, they would have somewhere of their own where he could leave his babies without worry. But until that day, he would have to drag his drum kit with him like this.</p><p>Once they’ve settled, Roger left the paper bag with booze on his tiny table and grabbed a beer from it. He offered it to Brian.</p><p>“Thanks”, he said and sat on a chair as Roger grabbed another beer for himself. They both opened their bottles and took a sip. Brian looked at the cheap clock on Rogers’ wall. It was 10 pm already. </p><p>“Well, I ---” Roger started, but Brian’s voice cut him out.</p><p>“I am sorry, Roger” Brian voice was smooth and cracked “I am <em>very</em> sorry. I regret hitting you last time we tried to fix… this. I just… I didn’t…” he panicked. Sweat was coming down from his temple as his curls started trembling, a reaction to the subtle shake of his shoulders. His right hand squeezed the bottle trying to hide his now jelly fingers, and his left scratched the wooded table slowly. A while ago, he felt John’s words as a stab in his pride, and he just followed Roger because of the unbearable shame. He practically ran away from the rehearsal room. </p><p>Maybe, he had been running away all this time.</p><p>Standing a few steps in front of him, Roger looked at Brian. His once extremely composed best friend was now some kind of breakdown ball with long legs, fighting to make a coherent English sentence. He blinked his baby blue eyes a few times, confused. This was far different from what he thought this chat would be like. </p><p>It was unfair. Roger had been awfully mad at Brian the whole week, but seeing him so vulnerable, anxious and defenceless made him realize something. The bump on his nape, the choking, the humiliation… Nothing mattered anymore. If the guilt that Brian was feeling was this intense, if all this crap was making him this miserable, then it did not matter. Deep inside, Roger knew that thinking that way was dangerous: he knew that, somehow, he was allowing Brian to do as he pleased. And eventually, that would be something he would regret.</p><p>Roger felt the urge to leave his beer on the table and reach Brian’s shoulders, but he repressed that impulse. <em>Why?</em> It was natural to comfort each other; they were lads doing lad things, right?</p><p> <em>Where did they go wrong? What was missing? </em></p><p>But Roger knew the truth. They <em>didn’t go wrong</em> or <em>miss </em>anything.</p><p>They had <em>found</em> something that night, and it was almost impossible not seeing or feeling it now. </p><p>“I know, I mean… That was not you, Bri,” Roger said and let go a sigh “I pushed things too far too, I guess… I don’t know. I shouldn’t put all my bisexuality crisis on you. That’s my own shit, and I got annoyingly bolshie about that.”</p><p>“But I shouldn’t have put the whole blame on you either, Rog,” Brian said and looked into his eyes “We both did our part. It was low blaming you and treating you like I did that night”.</p><p>The brunet passed his hands all over his face and let off a soft, jaded growl.</p><p>“I’m deeply sorry, Rog. I failed Chrissie, I failed you… and failed me. I was angry at me, not you. I wish I could handle all this as you do…”</p><p>Roger bitterly laughed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. As if he was really “cool” with all this mess…</p><p>“I don’t know what you saw or thought, but I’m not handling this as well as you think,”, the blond took a sip of his beer “But yeah, maybe I am way less dramatic than you, no doubt about it”.</p><p>Brian let go a quiet laugh and Roger joined him. At least that made the atmosphere lighter.</p><p>“I… I even question myself why I did what I did… and why I <em>enjoyed</em> it,” Roger said almost with a quivering voice.</p><p><em>I enjoyed it too</em>, Brian thought but remained silent. He couldn’t be honest with his feelings like Roger was.</p><p>“You know, going to the roof to get you was Freddie’s idea,” Roger said and sighed “A terrible idea.”</p><p>“No no, it was a normal idea,”, Brian corrected him, frowning his temple “The execution… Well, that was terrible.”</p><p>“Huh, <em>‘It was a normal idea, but the execution was terrible’ </em>sums up my life pretty accurately,” Roger said as he took a long sip from his beer.</p><p>Brian snorted a laugh, but this time it was genuine. It felt like the old times when Roger would come up with a ridiculous metaphor or some funny thing that would make them both roar with laughter. Could it be possible? Could they come back to being normal mates?</p><p>Roger left his bottle on the table and smiled. Brian had a soft smile on his face too, but his eyes where fixed on the table. The thought of their eyes locking was still intimidating. </p><p>“You… you still didn’t say you forgive me” Brian almost mumbled “I’m sorry, I never meant to harm you or---”, he couldn’t finish his sentence. Again, Roger interrupted him.</p><p>“I forgive you, mate,” Roger looked at him and sighed “If this whole shit is just going to make us knackered, I don’t care about you denying it or whatever. It is just so exhausting being like this. It doesn’t feel right…”</p><p>Brian lifted his head and finally looked into Roger’s eyes. </p><p>“Exhausting like hell, Rog”, the brunet took his bottle but didn’t drink any beer. </p><p>And this was why Roger used to feel pity towards Brian: he would always rationalize <em>everything</em>. He had absolutely no doubt that Brian’s mind was a living hell right now. His father was extremely strict, challenging him constantly, pushing him to the core once and again. They raised Brian May to be the best. Being in Queen was already a shock to his father and even to him: it was a big step, a true leap of faith in himself. </p><p>Now, he had to struggle with the reality of being unfaithful for the first time in his life and on the top of that, he had been unfaithful with a man. If being in a rock band was a shock to his father, this whole situation with Roger was a shock to him. For sure, Brian could feel the foundations of his analytic and labyrinthine brain crumbling down. At least, that’s what Roger could sense. And he was not far from the truth.</p><p>Once again, it was up to him to do something about it. About <em>them</em>. He was younger yet the strong one. Brian was born a good boy and good boys don’t get into trouble, so when the crap comes down they’re useless. Good, but useless. Roger was a bad one, and bad boys just know how to handle things. They’ve fucked things up so many times and seen so much nastiness that they can always find a way out, like a rat. </p><p>“Let’s just go through this however we can. I want to know what happens with me and the possibility of being bisexual, but that has nothing to do with you” Roger said and put the empty bottle aside. He crossed his arms on the table and looked into his friend’s frightened eyes.</p><p>“Why?” Brian said almost in a whisper.</p><p>“<em>Why?</em> What do you mean?”, a confused Roger asked.</p><p>“Why are you making it easy for me after that night? I’m very aware of the things I said and did, and they were awful and---” Roger sighed and rolled his eyes, making Brian go silent.</p><p>“You know, Bri? It can happen to anyone. How many times I fought with Fred or bullshitted him, or even you? Tons. Okay, I never got physical but hey, it can happen,” Roger straightened up in his chair and deepened his voice “I’m making this easy for us <em>both</em>, mate”.</p><p>Brian nodded his head, and a weak smile appeared on his lips.</p><p>“You’re right. We should focus on our first tour now and on Queen II,” Brian said more confidently.</p><p>“And we need to focus on the booze, and the parties too,” Roger smiled “But no roof for us, okay?” he said jokingly.</p><p>Brian froze for a second, and then he burst into laughs. Maybe it was the anxiety, but Roger’s ability to joke about almost everything was working on him this time. </p><p>“Ok, no roof. That was a terrible idea”, Brian said, tilting his head a little.</p><p>“A normal idea but…” Roger said pointing at his friend.</p><p>“A terrible execution!” both said at the same time, almost like a harmony.</p><p>They chuckled and Roger got up from his chair, got the beer left in the paper bag and headed to his fridge.</p><p>“Let’s cool this, the night is long, and we need to chill out a bit, don’t you think?” Roger said as he put the bottles in his mini-fridge.</p><p>Brian just nodded and immediately they were talking about riffs, projects, the upcoming tour… It was like coming back slowly at what they were before <em>that</em> night.</p><p>They kept drinking, laughing, joking, and even talking about music like the old times. They listened to Led Zeppelin until the neighbours complained about the noise.</p><p>On purpose, that night was extremely noisy. Maybe with the beer, the stupid jokes and the music they could bury the memories and the sensations they felt the night when the Moët and the stars found them entangled.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>September 13<sup>th</sup>, 1973. </em>
</p><p>The first show was savage. Queen was not the main band, but this was their very first tour and they would be presenting Queen I all over the country, Germany, Luxemburg and even Australia. </p><p>As Mott the Hoople’s support band, they were afraid of being rejected. But that didn’t happen; Freddie’s charisma was overwhelming and somehow that was contagious on the stage. The singer’s aura was breathed into his bandmates, especially into Brian and John. Honestly, Roger didn’t need it as much as them. He could shine (and literally, glow) by himself.</p><p>They were flawless and later that night, Mick and the rest of Mott and the Hoople threw a party at a rented house close to Golders Green Hippodrome. Once they got there, Roger smiled widely: that was what he needed. A big fat party with never-ending booze and hot girls. And hell yeah, the girls were smokin’ hot and more than one had put their eyes on Roger.</p><p>The band scattered at the party. Freddie and Mary were having a blast drinking and chatting with Ian and Mick. Apparently, Ian was beyond hilarious impersonating Elton John. Or maybe the four of them were wasted and high enough to think so.</p><p>John was drinking and dancing along with Ronnie. Roger’s advice was a success and they had been dating for a month. It was pretty obvious that the blonde and quiet girl was a bit intimidated by the whole situation, but Deacy was by her side and seeing him smiling and dancing made Ronnie feel safe and content. Roger was looking from afar and smiled: they suited each other. <em>Good for him, he deserves a nice girl, </em>the blonde thought and grabbed a beer from a huge bucket of ice. A soft, slender finger briefly touched his hand.</p><p>“Oh, sorry,” a female voice said.</p><p>Roger turned his head to the left and saw her. A lovely brunette. Long, wavy hair, big green eyes, and pouty lips. She was wearing a pair of unbelievable tight jeans and a green emerald blouse. </p><p><em>It’s time to hunt, Roggie, </em>he thought to himself and smiled back.</p><p>“Hey, no big deal,” Roger said and took a little bottle opener from his pocket. He opened the beer he had just grabbed and offered to the young woman “Take it, love. There’s enough booze here to make all of us hammered.”</p><p>The girl laughed and took a quick sip.</p><p>“Do you always carry a bottle opener with you?” she asked, amused.</p><p>“You never know when you’re going to need it, do you?” Roger said and winked an eye “By the way, I’m Roger. I’m---”</p><p>The brunette cut him.</p><p>“I know. Queen’s drummer. All of you were dog’s bollocks tonight” she said, “Oh, by the way, I’m Sally, I’m Ian’s friend.”</p><p>“Well, thank you and a pleasure to meet you, Sally,” Roger said and moved closer to her. </p><p>She was a bit taller than him but that didn’t bother Roger. He knew that girls were attracted to him for many other reasons. His height was never a problem. </p><p>Sally had a nice body and honestly, Roger had been looking for a damn good one-night stand during the last few weeks. His last encounters weren’t good enough and he didn’t want to remember why. It was a bit embarrassing. A bit <em>too</em> embarrassing.</p><p>They started chatting and after a few minutes, Sally and Roger had moved to an old, moss green sofa in the corner of the room. The sexual tension was increasing every time Roger talked in a whisper to her ear while she absent-mindedly caressed his knee. That slow move suddenly became a bit more aggressive: Sally was intentionally pressing his thighs now, going up slowly but firmly to his crotch.</p><p><em>Gotcha, </em>Roger thought and gently grabbed her chin. He looked at her face. Yeah, she was gorgeous, she would do. He pressed his lips on hers and Sally kissed him back, doubling all bets: her warm tongue tried to open his mouth and Roger gladly let her have her way. His hand went from her chin to her nape, grabbing her firmly but gently as they deepened the kiss.</p><p>Roger felt that pinch on his dick and knew that Sally was what he needed that night.</p><p>As the kiss grew hotter and naughtier, the blond was thinking about how he was going to spit the catchphrase <em>“Shall we go to a quieter place?” </em></p><p>But there was no need for Roger to do that move. Sally slowly broke the kiss and looked mischievously into his eyes.</p><p>“There’s a room upstairs where everybody is having fun if you know what I mean” Sally cooed suggestively. </p><p>“And how do you know that miss?” Roger chuckled rising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Ask no questions, and you’ll be told no lies,” Sally said, and the drummer saw her thighs fidgeting, rubbing up against each other. She was undoubtedly horny.</p><p><em>Great. </em>It was cleared that Sally was looking for the same thing as Roger and that eased him. No strings attached, no problems after the shag and no regrets. </p><p>“Take me there then, love,” Roger said and helped Sally to get up the sofa. </p><p>She took the lead, and both went upstairs. Sally seemed to know the house. Probably this was not the first time Mott the Hoople rented the place for an after-party. And most certainly, taking prey to her cave was not a first for Sally either.</p><p>At the second floor, <em>Smoke on the water</em> was coming out from the half-opened door at the end of the hallway. But the smoke was not only on Deep Purple lyrics’: it was physically coming out from that room too. The sweet smell of marihuana mixed with tobacco was intoxicating and a subtle electrical discharge pinched his lower half again.</p><p>When they entered the room no one noticed them. Everyone had their own trip, their own business to attend. Rugs, mattresses, blankets were on the floor and the people were scattered all over. The lights were low and dark red mixed with a yellow ochre, but Roger could recognize Dale, Mott’s drummer, laying on a Persian rug, smoking while a blond and a ginger were going down on him.</p><p>Roger had had a lot of sex but was never part of an orgy. This was not specifically one, but the idea of shagging around a lot of people didn’t scare him. It was actually a turn on. Sally was an interesting girl for sure.</p><p><em>Lucky bastard, you twat, </em>Roger thought of himself.</p><p>The brunette quickly found a spot for them: it was a mountain of colourful blankets. She attracted Roger to her, and he fell over. They started to make out intensely, there was no need to delay the main show any longer. Sally helped him to get her jeans off the way and immediately Roger pulled down his own zipper and… Fuck. </p><p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why was his dick only half-hard?</em>
</p><p>Led Zeppelin's <em>Rock and roll </em>started to sound in the room, and it couldn’t be more accurate.</p><p>
  <em>It's been a long time since I rock and rolled</em>
</p><p>
  <em>             It's been a long time since I did the Stroll</em>
</p><p>He hadn’t had a good shag recently and when he finally thought he was getting laid, this was happening. <em>Again</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Oh let me get it back let me get it back</em>
</p><p>
  <em>              Let me get it back baby where I come from</em>
</p><p>This was the shameful thing. His lower half was not cooperating lately and yes, sometimes he was able to hide his half-hard dick and shag but, there were other times when the disappointed ladies gave him a deadly gaze. And this was new for him: no one had walked away from his bed disappointed before.</p><p>Sally didn’t notice that Roger was panicking and slowly pulled aside her panties, giving free entrance.</p><p>As Roger realized that he had no choice but to go with the flow and hope for the best, <em>Paint it, Black</em> was now the music surrounding them. He took a deep breath and positioned himself. He didn’t know why but lifted his head a bit and saw it. Another couple was behind them laying in a mattress. Their heads were opposite to Sally and Roger’s and they were a couple of steps apart. The girl was under the man and the only thing Roger could see was her long, hazelnut straight hair. Over her was a big mass of black, curled hair.</p><p>A big mass of black curled hair.</p><p><em>Oh, fuck, </em>Roger panicked.</p><p>Brian and Chrissie. His best mate and his long-time sweetheart shagging. Suddenly, Brian lifted his head and Roger could recognize the gesture on his face. He was feeling pleasure. His mouth was half-open and the motion he was making got him deeper and deeper in Chrissie.</p><p>And Roger was not half-hard anymore. </p><p>He was <em>throbbing hard.</em></p><p><em>Shit, </em>Roger thought. That couldn’t be good.</p><p>Before his brain started to go numb Roger sank himself into Sally’s warmth and the motion was a bit rough. She didn’t mind and let go of a loud moan and arched her back. Somehow that caught Brian’s attention and lift his head a bit.</p><p>And then, it happened. </p><p>
  <em>I see a red door and I want it painted black</em>
</p><p>
  <em>             No colours anymore, I want them to turn black</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Their eyes locked and Roger felt it again. His heart was racing under his half-exposed chest: Brian was looking into his eyes while he was thrusting into Chrissie. He seemed a bit confused but he was not averting his dark eyes from him.</p><p>The blond slowly licked and bite his lower lip and thrust harder into Sally. The sex, the smoke and the people in the room were rising the temperature and Roger’s golden locks stuck on his sweaty forehead and cheeks.</p><p>Brian opened his eyes wide and his gaze became intense. He felt a subtle shudder from Chrissie and knew that his girlfriend had reached her orgasm.</p><p> Under the reddish light, Roger could see the sweat drops coming down from his friend's face to his chest. Brian’s hands grabbed firmly one of Chrissie’s thighs showing off his long, slender fingers.</p><p>Roger remembered how those fingers felt on his own skin. A deep growl of pleasure came out from his lips and closed a bit his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>I look inside myself and see my heart is black</em>
</p><p>
  <em>               I see my red door, I must have it painted black</em>
</p><p>The vision made Brian come into Chrissie and looked at her just a bit. She was with her eyes shut, ignoring what was really behind the sexual performance of her boyfriend. Then he turned his gaze back at Roger's eyes. The blond did not avert his eyes from him, not even for a second.</p><p>Roger saw the climax expression on Brian’s face. He recalled that night, that roof and the scent of Moët. He couldn’t help it and came into Sally, clenching his fingers strongly on her hips. The brunette let go a breathless moan and her eyes went white. </p><p>The ladies underneath them seemed lifeless. Exhausted. They were relaxing after the pleasure and Chrissie was even falling asleep. Even when the Rolling Stones’ song was still playing in the room.</p><p>Roger and Brian were still staring at each other. Brian’s gaze was confused and tormented and for the second time, he ran away from his friend’s baby blue eyes and buried his head on Chrissie’s chest.</p><p>The blond got off Sally and lay down beside her. He stared at the ceiling trembling. It didn’t feel like he had shagged a woman. It felt like he had shagged his best friend from afar as if that was possible.</p><p>It was a creepy, weird and twisted onanistic act.</p><p>His chest tightened and he let the Rolling Stones keep singing a dark lullaby for him.</p><p>
  <em>No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue</em>
</p><p>
  <em>             I could not foresee this thing happening to you.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter VIII: You win, you lose, it's a chance you have to take with love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi there :)</p><p>Here's the new chapter (8751 words approx). I've really enjoyed myself writing it so, I hope you guys enjoy reading it as well.</p><p>Some notes: remember, this is fiction ;)<br/>Don't forget to leave kudos or a comment if you like the chapter or the story so far :) It means A LOT to me.</p><p>If you wanna talk about these lovely dorks or Queen, you can find me on Tumblr: 0-primejive-0</p><p>Stay safe &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter VIII: You win, you lose, it's a chance you have to take with love</span>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>September 15th, London</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Normal idea, terrible execution. </em>
</p><p>¿Could it be the motto of his life, too? Brian thought as he let go a long sigh, recalling what happened two nights ago.</p><p>He only wanted to spicy things up with Chrissie. After <em>the thing on the roof</em>, Brian was feeling a bit off every time he and his girlfriend were sharing an intimate moment. She would not complain, she was kind and comprehensive to the point of genuinely believing that all their new problems in the bedroom were caused by Brian's stress and worries about the upcoming tour.</p><p>Brian tried to believe that too, but he knew the real reason. Flashbacks from that night would come up at any time of the day, especially when he was alone or about to make love with Chrissie. The feeling of being aroused by the memories was increasing his guilt more and more, and the fact that one time, in the shower, he jerked off to the memory of Roger soaked in Moët really didn't help.</p><p>Even when he and Roger were having a “normal friends” relationship, something still felt <em>off</em>. Apparently, they were back to being like they always were, but Roger had cut all the physical pranks he used to pull on him. No more surprise piggybacks, no more slaps on his butt or playing with his curls till the point of making him mad. Same was for Brian: he stopped calling him "ferret" or "Goldilocks".</p><p>They were friends avoiding anything that could trigger them.</p><p>It felt a bit <em>too off</em>.</p><p>So, at the after-party, Brian had this "normal" idea. He heard from Mott's drummer about this crazy room in the house and thought that it would be a blast if Chrissie and made love there. Shagging almost in the dark, drowned in music and smoke was exciting and Brian thought that the experience (extremely wild for both) would spice the things between them and erase the memories of Roger and that damned party.</p><p>"Are you for real?", Chrissie said shocked and in awe. She almost dropped his glass of beer. They were standing by a huge window facing the street on the first floor of the house.</p><p>Brian nodded and gave her a naughty smile.</p><p>"Of course, baby. It's going to be fun and exciting. I'll make sure no one sees anything you don't want to be seen" Brian said and pulled her softly into a hug "Chrissie, love, I can assure you nobody there will give a damn about what we're doing… Besides, don't you find it exciting?" the brunet whispered in her ear that last question.</p><p>Chrissie shivered and Brian smiled internally.</p><p><em>Gotcha, babe</em>, he thought.</p><p>"Well, I guess this dress could help to make things easier, so I don't need to be too exposed…" Chrissie said.</p><p>Indeed, her sleeveless, long, and blue dress would be easily pulled up if necessary.</p><p>"So…?" Brian playfully whispered to her ear, leaving a soft kiss on her neck.</p><p>Chrissie sighed.</p><p>"Damn you, Brian Harold May…" she chuckled and gave him a quick kiss on his lips "Take me there, then".</p><p>Brian's smile was so wide that he felt a little pinch on his cheeks. After all those weeks of uncertainty, he was feeling, at last, a genuine desire for his girlfriend. The urge of being with <em>her</em>, to feel <em>he</em>r and, above all, to please <em>her</em> seemed to be back.</p><p>That feeling lasted for a while. They were lucky enough to find a mattress and they made it their spot. Chrissie felt safe with Brian on her, blocking all the potential peeps and that relaxed her. She gave herself fully at the very first caressing and kissing from Brian.</p><p>And it was going terrific, really. They were going at it savagely: Brian was grabbing Chrissie's thighs strongly and seeing her moaning with her eyes shut made him feel powerful, invincible. There were no intrusive thoughts or memories: just them, the music and the heat becoming intense minute by minute.</p><p>But then, that <em>moan</em> startled him: a loud, horny one. For a second there he thought it was Chrissie, but she was biting her lips and her eyes were closed, enjoying fully the sensations Brian made her feel. So, he lifted his head and saw it.</p><p>A few steps away there was another couple. He could only see the dark head of the women that had just moaned and then, the blond with droopy blue eyes over her.</p><p><em>The blond with droopy blue eyes</em>.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, Brian panicked.</p><p>It was Roger. His best mate shagging in front of him with a random girl.</p><p>Then their eyes locked and what happened was beyond his control: Roger thrust on the girl under him <em>hard</em>, and Brian felt an electric shock. Roger may have some girly features, but he was very manly in everything he did: playing the drums, smoking, singing, thrusting into girls…<em>jerking mates</em>.</p><p>He couldn't say for how long they were looking at each other, as if they were on a weird, perverted staring contest. But it was enough time to realize that something <em>extremely odd</em> was going on.</p><p>Brian felt aroused at the sight of Roger licking and biting his lower lip and thrust harder on Chrissie. She barely opened her eyes: she was not used to drinking, and with all the smoke and the four or five glasses of beer she had drunk the sensations of sex maybe were too intense. It only took Brian another few thrusts and she reached her climax. His boyfriend felt her shuddering and looked at her briefly. She was truly satisfied.</p><p>Suddenly, the vision of Roger soaked wet with his hair tucked on his face and forehead triggered Brian. The bloody Moët scene came to his mind and that was it.</p><p>He came into Chrissie… for all the wrong reasons.</p><p><em>A terrible execution</em>, he thought bitterly.</p><p>When he came back to his senses, he lifted his head again and there was Roger, still staring at him. It was obvious that he had come too: his half-exposed chest was going up and down and his half-open mouth showed his agitation.</p><p><em>Damn, Rog</em>, Brian said internally. The shame, the guilt, and the confusion were never so unbearable.</p><p>He couldn't deny it anymore: there was something about Roger that pushed a bottom inside him, a bottom that seemed no longer reachable for Chrissie.</p><p>Scared and confused, Brian buried his head on her girlfriend's chest. And it was bittersweet and frightening: Chrissie's warmth didn't feel like home anymore.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>September 16th, London</em>
</p><p>Freddie heard Roger's story about the party. Sitting on his sofa and next to Roger, he patiently and stoically paid attention to every word, every gesture, every sentence. When his friend finished his long monologue about <em>shagging hot girl went wrong</em>, he grabbed his teacup from the small table in front of his couch and took a sip before giving his piece to his friend.</p><p>"Can I ask you a question, Roggie?" Freddie calmly asked.</p><p>Roger shrugged his shoulders and nodded.</p><p>"Why don't the two of you…" Freddie blinked a few times and then looked into Roger's eyes "…stop this nonsense and have a steamy, fat, big, bloody shag once and for all?!"</p><p>Roger's jaw fell and narrowed his eyes. <em>What the bloody hell…?</em></p><p>"Are you joking, mate? Really?" the blond spat standing from the couch. He was baring his soul, his fears, his doubts, and the only thing Freddie could come up with was that?</p><p>"No, I am not," Freddie said seriously and took a mouthful of his tea to finish it "Roger, how long have we, you and I, known each other?"</p><p>"I don't know…Three or four years?" Roger tentatively guessed.</p><p>"Four years, blondie. And we spent two of those four years living together, and last year, from the fall of 1972 to this day, you were single, right?" Freddie stated and his friend nodded "Okay. Now, how bloody much do you think I know you?"</p><p>"Well, not enough if you suggest ---" Freddie roughly interrupted him.</p><p>"Christine Smith," the brunet said, "She used to be our friend, she was a big help at our fashion stall until one day you thought it was a great idea to flirt with her, am I wrong?"</p><p>Roger rolled his eyes and sighed.</p><p>"It was mutual Fred, okay? She started it and I just went along and then---"</p><p>"And then, you fucked her a couple of times, and once that urge of yours to get in her panties was gone, you just ditched her," Freddie said as he crossed his legs and straightened his back.</p><p>"And she went nuts and left the stall, taking with her your favorite golden jacket thinking it was mine," Roger thought aloud.</p><p>Freddie narrowed his dark brown eyes and his nostrils opened wide just by remembering how one of his best clothes <em>ever</em> would never come back to him.</p><p>"Janine Pough," his friend said, and Roger wrinkled his forehead.</p><p>"That was NOT entirely my fault, okay? She was pestering me, and the flesh is weak!" Roger pleaded.</p><p>"Oh no, Roggie boy. Weak my arse. She was going to marry your cousin Mark, for God's sake! But no, you put your eyes and your big, immoral dick energy on her and bam! Next thing we knew you were shagging each other on their engagement party and---" Freddie was passionately narrating the whole shameful episode when Roger shushed him.</p><p>"My bad, my bad, my bad, I know," the blond said, visibly distressed.</p><p>Freddie raised a brow.</p><p>"And let's not forget our kind, beautiful and deliciously bold Mrs. Kellen" Freddie theatrically looked at the ceiling "That wonderful woman in his late thirties, our next-door neighbor at the very first block we live in. Oh, I can still hear Mr. Kellen yelling and calling you names when he arrived home early and found his lovely wife being ravished by the young man he used to mistake for a young girl every single time," the brunet recalled and let go of a sigh.</p><p>"He could tell for sure I was no bird then," Roger said mischievously.</p><p>"Yes, and we had to leave and find a new flat" Freddie growled.</p><p>"I got us a bigger and cheaper one, didn't I?" the blond smiled and scornfully put his hands on his waist.</p><p>Freddie gave him a severe look for a few seconds and then his expression softened and smiled.</p><p>"Alright, it was something good in the end. I'll give you credit for that", Fred said uncrossing his legs and stretching on the sofa.</p><p>"Anyways, I don't know why you are throwing to my face all my long and lustful rap sheet. What is it got to do with Brian?", Roger asked, confused.</p><p>"Elemental, my dear Watson," Freddie said raising enigmatically an eyebrow.</p><p><em>Oh, fuck. Here comes his delusion of being Sherlock,</em> Roger thought and rolled his blue eyes.</p><p>"Every bloody time you lay those big and naughty eyes of yours on someone, you don't stop until you fully get them. No matter if they are taken or are your friends, or colleagues or your cousin's fiancée, or if your affaire will cost your best lad's <em>lovely, unique, spectacular, never the same </em>golden jacket", the brunet recited as if he were on a play.</p><p>"I can buy you a new jacket, Fred" Roger mumbled.</p><p>"Shut up, I'm not done, blondie. The thing is that your uncontrollable desire and horny fixations tend to die once you achieve that sexual release. So, a few weeks ago you admitted in this room that being with Bri was hot, felt beyond good and it is pretty obvious to me that you wanted and still want more" Freddie breathed a sigh and poured some tea. He offered him the teacup with a gesture. Roger declined and sat back on the sofa.</p><p>Indeed, Freddie knew him better than he thought. It was no news for anyone that Roger's sex life and drive was intense. But he had never realized this thing about fixating on someone before. Christine, Janine, Mrs. Kellen... those three affairs had one strong thing in common: as soon as Roger had them once, twice, or thrice, his interest on those women dropped dramatically and immediately an urge of running away had appeared. It had been low of him driving them away, he knew that. But he couldn't help it. He knew no better.</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That was a lie. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He knew better. </em>
</p><p>Josephine Morris was the tangible proof that Rog could properly love someone. He met her one night after a Smile gig, back in 1968 and they were attached by the hip since then. It was thanks to Jo that Brian met Chrissie, who used to share a flat with Rog's girlfriend.</p><p>Josephine was not precisely beautiful. Roger was aware of that. She had something more appealing: she was <em>extraordinarily attractive</em>. Beautiful and attractive were not the same for Rog. Jo was attractive because she was funny, smart, and so confident about herself that she drove him crazy since the first night they spent together.</p><p>She was as free a spirit as him, so there were no silly arguments or hysterical fights: if there was a problem, they would talk about it. And if Roger got too pissed off about something, Jo had the ability to calm him down. Before meeting her, Taylor had been a womanizer even when he was in a relationship. With Josephine, there was no need: for the first time in his life, he did not want any other woman. She was more than enough. They were a match made in Heaven, or at least that was what everyone thought.</p><p>In the fall of 1972, Jo dropped a bomb in Roger's life. She fell in love with a man she met on a trip to Prague with her college friends. She told him everything: it was the least she could after those four years of genuine and deep love. Roger's heart was not broken: it was <em>ripped out</em>. He let her into his skin, and she tore him off.</p><p> </p><p>What is the use of loving someone if they leave you so <em>vulnerable, defenseless, broken</em>?</p><p>What is the point of loving someone that, sooner or later, is going to ditch you or choose another person over you?</p><p>Love was a Shakespearean tragedy, and Roger had no intention to play the tormented and grieving main character again.</p><p> </p><p>So, he came back to his old self, but with a bitter twist. He was looking for sex, not <em>intimacy</em>. He would rather dump someone heartlessly than being dumped himself.</p><p> No matter how much he yearned for a love as he had with Jo, he denied this to himself and tried to avoid any closeness or affection with his shags. He had built a fence around his heart and hardened his skin. He was trying his best to stay safe.</p><p>And maybe, that was the scariest thing about being with Brian: for a moment there, he <em>felt it</em>. The intimacy, the devotedness, the Shangri-La he had lost with Jo.</p><p>Maybe Freddie was right. Maybe sleeping with Brian would help them both in getting this fixation out of their system. Or maybe he could just sleep with a man: if he were bisexual, wouldn't any man do? After Mott's after-party, he was not that convinced.</p><p> But if Freddie´s advice was wrong, a different story would unfold, and Roger was not quite sure if he wanted to keep opening more red doors.</p><p>He just wanted to paint them black.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>September 25th, London.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was a long journey for the lads. It was hard to come to the terms with the fact that <em>Queen I</em> was not working as they thought it would. Maybe that rushed them into the studio to record <em>Queen II</em>. This time they tried even harder, if it was possible.</p><p>So, in simple words, August was exhausting. The endless record sessions, the fights about songs, about solos, even about the food that they would grab at the studio… There was a lot of <em>argy-bargy</em> for everything. The pressure they were feeling was overwhelming: they could not fail again. At least they could use the studio at normal hours this time, which allowed them to experiment all kind of techniques and sounds and textures.</p><p>Not only they tried new things on their music: Freddie was obsessed with the aesthetic of <em>Queen</em>. He was absolutely sure that one of the factors that made their first album fail was the cover. So, he decided to do something radical about it. Freddie was infatuated by the Hollywood Golden Years, and he insisted on doing the album cover inspired on a Marlene Dietrich's famous portrait. Black and white were not only the colours they chose for the aesthetics: they symbolically divided the songs of the album in “White” and “Black” parts. All the effort paid off because when they heard how the songs turned out and when they saw the first pictures Mick Rock made of them, all of it was beyond their expectations.</p><p>Once August was over and the album finished (not ready for release, though), Roger felt as if he was fourteen again, had spent the whole night finishing his science project and now he was worn out. But it was not time to relax yet: the rehearsals for the upcoming tour with Mott started and, once again, they were dragged into long hours of sharing almost everything.</p><p>They had all witnessed how John and Ronnie's relationship was growing stronger every day. She would drop by to bring them all kinds of homemade food: pastries, pies, even a roasted chicken with potatoes. A big, whole, fat chicken from Ronnie's uncle farm.</p><p>"You know what, Deaks? Just for this superb chicken I would marry her" Roger said, hungrily devouring a roasted wing "No, I'm telling you more: I would marry her and make her the mother of my children, that's what you gotta do, lad".</p><p>"You would do anything for food, wouldn't you" Fred chuckled as Deacy and Brian laughed.</p><p>"Don't spend too much time around Ronnie, Rog. I have no chance if she starts to fancy you" John said grabbing a potato. An imperceptible sad smile appeared on his face.</p><p>"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, I've already tested her," the blond said and took a long sip of beer.</p><p>Brian, Fred and Deacy froze.</p><p>"You did what?" Brian asked.</p><p>"I tested her. I did it with Mary, with Chrissie…And now, with Ronnie" Roger explained.</p><p>"And how come I was not aware of this, darling?" Freddie asked and while he placed both hands on his hips.</p><p>"Well, because after I tested them, I told them that it was just a trick. I honestly thought they would be mad at me but, no" Roger thoughtfully narrowed his eyes "No, wait: Mary spat at me and called me a <em>tosser,</em> but in the end they told me how good a lad I was, worrying about my mates" the drummer did a silly smile showing all his teeth, shrugged his shoulders and kept eating. His friends laughed.</p><p>"What exactly <em>is</em> this test, Roger?" Deacy asked.</p><p>"I casually drop the hint that I'd like to give them a ride to somewhere to be alone and to know them better. Lucky bastards all of you: they rejected me. I was glad," the blond said and genuinely smiled at them "They're all good girls."</p><p>"I bet they are…" Brian mumbled. Suddenly, he felt an already known guilt pinching at his throat. <em>Chrissie could resist the temptation of being with Roger better than him</em>.</p><p>"Believe me, they won't cheat on you or dump you for a guy they met in Prague," Roger said and chuckled bitterly.</p><p>An awkward silence made John cough, and Brian felt completely useless. In the past, he would wait to finish the rehearsal, wait for Rog to be ready to go and then he would comfort him with a tight mates' hug. Because that is what lads do: they care for each other and they stand by you no matter what. But the thought of pulling his friend into a warm hug was now uncomfortable. Almost unbearable. They were not fighting but something was <em>amiss</em>, and the sensation felt like mourning.</p><p>Had their friendship been hollowed out from their hearts with an invisible knife?</p><p>And if so, how could they fill this deep emptiness and get rid of this <em>strangeness</em>?</p><p>Freddie's soothing voice broke Brian's train of thoughts.</p><p>"Oh, darling, don't—"</p><p>"It's alright, Fred. It's just a joke, that's all" Roger smiled and licked his greasy fingers "Now, what's next?" the blond asked, rushing his friends' lunch.</p><p>There was still a lot to do, and the next gig in Bonn was in a few weeks.</p><p>Time was gold and they could not afford to waste it. That at least they had learned that during their exhausting journey.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>October 13th, Bonn (Germany)</em>
</p><p>Being a support band can be hard sometimes. The four of them were sharing a changing room. It was not small, but not big either: their clothes were hanging on an old rack and they had exactly four chairs and two medium tables. Mirror? You wish. They only had two hand mirrors provided by Freddie, and that was all. That is how the path of glory and fame begins: <em>ad Astra per Aspera.</em></p><p>Being a bit cramped was not a big deal for four young lads but having your flamboyant frontman on the verge of a hysterical breakdown was kind of a nightmare. Freddie was ornery as hell: they would be on stage in half an hour and the brunet was complaining that he still could not reach the dramatic look that he was trying to get with his black eyeliner.</p><p>"You look alright, Fred," Roger said as he put a light, shiny silver vest on his naked torso.</p><p>"<em>Alright </em>is not enough, Taylor. I am aiming for <em>flawless</em>" Freddie sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples.</p><p>"Okay, let me do this for you, Fred. Ronnie taught me a few things about make-up for this gig" John said and put a chair in front of Freddie.</p><p>"Oh, thank you, darling!" the singer smiled.</p><p>And Brian and Rog sighed in relief. God bless John, for real. They did not have the least intention of dealing with their frontman right now: it was the first time that they would be playing outside their country and that was a transformative experience, they had their own thoughts to deal with now. They both knew that it was a trial of fire and the anxiety was increasing minute by minute.</p><p>"Hey, I'm gonna have a cig. Wanna come?" Roger said.</p><p>"Um, yeah. Sure" Brian answered, and he was glad. He missed his time alone with Roger. After all the mess, the new album and the rehearsals they had no time for themselves. Maybe that was what felt off? Perhaps not having their time alone, their space to fix what had been broken was the reason for all the strangeness between them.</p><p>Brian followed his friend through the hallway, and they found a spot back the stage. The place was surrounded by frantic Mott's roadies arranging the last details.</p><p>"Well, somehow we made it, huh" Rog lit his cig and rested his back on the wall.</p><p>"It seems so… We'll have to wait, though" Brian almost mumbled and rested his back on the wall too.</p><p>"I have a good feeling about this, Bri. Trust me" the blond smiled and took a long drag off his cig.</p><p><em>Bri</em>. It almost felt like the good, pacific old days. Brian chuckled and let a sigh go.</p><p>"Then I must trust you, mate. You were never wrong about Tim, Fred, or John. Whenever I was in doubt about the band, or about almost everything you… You somehow <em>knew</em> where to turn, you know," Brian looked into his friend's eyes "Thank you, Rog."</p><p>Roger froze for a second and then smiled. That was something he did not expect.</p><p>"Thank you too, mate. I'm here after I auditioned for you a couple of years ago and you thought I didn't suck that much" Roger laughed. The smoke coming out of his nostrils and mouth gave him a fairy aura. And then Brian finally understood. It was another epiphany, seeing his long-time best friend surrounded by a shadowy tobacco fog, carelessly laughing and almost glowing under the light of the spotlights the roadies were testing.</p><p>He was beautiful, almost too gorgeous for a human being. It hurt like hell coming to terms with the fact that he was <em>irremediably</em> attracted to Roger. There was nothing <em>amiss</em> between them: there was <em>a revelation</em>. During the past three months, Brian tried to convince himself that it was all a confusion, that they were going to be the friends they once were, eventually. But the distance that both of them kept was undeniable proof that staying prudentially afar from each other was the only weapon they had to fight against the urge and the desire that had been unleashed that night in July.</p><p>Roger slowly turned his head to Brian and broke his trance.</p><p>"You look <em>astonishin</em>g, darling," the blond said, trying to impersonate Freddie.</p><p>The brunet laughed and looked at his overly dramatic white blouse with ridiculously long sleeves.</p><p>"It was Freddie's idea" he defended himself "And you know how his ideas end up. Their execution tends to be terrible"</p><p>"Oh, I know" Roger mumbled and suddenly, a soft and trembling voice came out from him "Brian, do you think that <em>all </em>of those executions were terrible?"</p><p>The drummer looked into his friend's eyes. He was tired of playing the game of denial and ambiguity.</p><p>Brian took up the gauntlet. It was futile. What was the use of keeping himself in denial?</p><p>"No, not at all, Rog" he sighed and turned his gaze to his friend "Some executions were terribly… intense. And breathtaking. Don't you think?"</p><p>Roger did not see that one coming. But before he could articulate a coherent English sentence, a shout from one of the roadies interrupted the rawest talk they had had in months.</p><p>"Queen, fifteen minutes! Come on, blocks!"</p><p>Roger quickly smashed his cigarette against the wall and Brian straightened.</p><p>The show was about to start. On and out of the stage.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Freddie was a god onstage. He had the audience on the palm of his hands and the effervescent energy flowing from his voice, his body and his moves seemed to cast a spell over the whole auditorium.</p><p>The spell spread to the band too. Roger was used to exchanging glances and gazes with John during the rehearsals and gigs. They needed to be in synchro, and that meant being almost over each other in every song. Deacy would come and face the drum set, and Roger would respond to this dynamic. Freddie would do that too but for fun. He loved this game of flirting with Roger during his drum solos or just because he felt like it. And the blond enjoyed that game because it was just that: a game that used to flutter the girls on the first row. So, he would stick his tongue out, bite or pout his lips in response to Freddie's bold advances.</p><p>What was not usual was Brian and him having this kind of interactions on stage. Maybe it was Bonn, maybe it was Fred, maybe it was the tacit confession about that night and the way they poured their souls to each other; they did not know for sure. But what they knew is that something changed between them on stage that night. Brian turned to Roger as he was playing his solos and on more than one occasion, they exchanged intense gazes. It was nothing like trying to be in synchrony with John or playing with Fred: it was another code, another language. It seemed that every note Brian played on his old lady was a breath of unfulfilled desire, and every hard hit on the drums seemed like the way Roger was responding to his provocations. If the old lady was crying from repressed lust, the drums were ready to bang her hard, as filthy as it sounded.</p><p>The overwhelming tension was increasing, and Roger was not able to stop the inevitable: he was aroused by the whole thing and it began to feel a little uncomfortable on his crotch. In that context, <em>Liar</em>, the last song on the playlist, came in.</p><p>During his drum intro, Freddie came closer to the drums kit to do the usual flirty game with Roger. And maybe it was because he was already too horny, but the drummer played his part and took it to the core. His bobbly, baby blue eyes were glossy, and the way he viciously licked his lips made even Freddie skip a beat.</p><p><em>Oh my, the blondie is getting good at this</em>, Freddie thought and winked an eye to his friend, proud of his recently unlocked acting skills.</p><p>But that was not the case. The talk before the show, Brian's smooth advances and signals during the past forty minutes were <em>too much</em> to endure and process.</p><p>
  <em>I have sinned, dear Father</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Father, I have sinned</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Try and help me, Father</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Won't you let me in?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>LIAR!</em>
</p><p>Roger almost screamed the word, releasing some of the libido bottled up in him. Gigs were always exciting, that was true. And playing on stage had been always kind of a turn on for him, but not this way. His libido was focused on <em>someone</em>, and that was a whole different story.</p><p> It did not help the fact that the guitarist shamelessly played for him: when the time came, Brian turned to Roger and rabidly almost ripped the strings of his guitar, playing with his mouth half-open. The same damned expression he had while he was on the verge of his climax. The same mesmerizing face that had been replaying in his mind like an infinite loop every time he was with a random woman, or even when he would touch himself.</p><p>Roger banged even harder the drums and that <em>Liar</em> coming from his mouth was filled with frustration: it was more like crying from craving than just a simple word that he had to sing once in a while.</p><p>Brian could perfectly see how Roger’s locks were soaked wet, tucked to his cheeks, temples and even into his mouth. Just like that night when the Moët unholily baptized him under the summer stars. After months of denial, Brian gave in. It was criminal how much he wanted to touch Roger again.</p><p>The little game between John and Freddie began, and Roger was suddenly dragged off his trance.</p><p>
  <em>Mama, I'm gonna be your slave</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All-day long</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mama, I'm gonna try behave</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All-day long</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mama, I'm gonna be your slave</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All-day long</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'm gonna serve you 'til your dying day</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All-day long</em>
</p><p> </p><p>John was singing along with Freddie and they were so close, it surprised Roger and Brian. During rehearsals, the singer did a painstaking work of persuasion to convince John to sing. He wanted to give him more confidence on stage, so he encouraged him. <em>Liar</em> was special to the bassist: he had a marvellous solo and it would be even better if he could sing. And there he was: <em>singing and enjoying it</em>.</p><p>John and his solo were a distraction and suddenly, the song was coming to an end. Roger banged the drums and cymbals as hard as he could. He was half-hard already and in no time, he had to stand up and leave the stage.</p><p>The song was over. The crowd was hysterical. As they left the stage, the roadies came to help Roger with his drum kit. Brian, Freddie, and John waited for him out the stage and once everything was under the roadies' control, they went straight to their changing room. The guys from Mott the Hoople congratulated them: <em>Queen </em>was truly outrageous on the scene and the rest of the tour seemed promising.</p><p>"Fuck, that was incredible! Oh, I wish Norman had seen us… Anyways, he'll appear when he smells the money that we are going to make after this tour, I tell you" Freddie snorted a laugh and took a white towel from a chair. He was right about Norman Sheffield, their manager. Unfortunately, Freddie was <em>too right</em> about him.</p><p>"God, I need a shower," John said as he touched his wet nape.</p><p>Roger was sitting in his chair watching every move Brian was making. His gaze was following him as a vulture would do: how <em>dare</em> him, really.</p><p>The brunet felt his friend's eyes as two darts on his back. He was looking for comfy, clean clothes. He needed a shower and later, he would talk to Roger. But he forgot how bolshie his friend could be. He had also forgotten that playing with fire had its consequences.</p><p>"Good. You and Freddie can go and shower. Brian promised to have a cig with me" Roger said staring at the guitarist.</p><p>Brian's breath stopped for a few seconds. How <em>naïve</em> he had been to think Roger would let him go.</p><p>"But Brian doesn't smoke, does he?" John asked confused and frowned his brows.</p><p>"Oh, sometimes he does, an old habit" Freddie immediately grabbed his stuff and put a hand on John's shoulder "Come on, Deaks, let's have a shower, Louie is out there, he's gonna help us with this stuff"</p><p>Freddie was fast for reading between the lines and got the hint. Those two had something to sort out, and he was not going to interfere. He rushed the bassist out of the room and they got lost in the noise and poor illumination surrounding them.</p><p>Once alone, Roger stood up and nodded, motioning for Brian to follow him out of the changing room, through the hallway. It seemed like a labyrinth, a dark and hollow one. People were running or fastening their pace to the stage. Mott, the main band, was about to play. It could not matter less to Roger: he had other issues to attend. This sort of maze reminded him of what he thought about Brian's mind and it could not be more accurate: sometimes, the only way to get things right is not to follow the same path all over again, but unfollowing it.</p><p>Brian went after his friend through the darkness. The noises slowly became echoes and when they turned into a small hallway, Roger stopped and turned around to face him. The brunet could see a glimpse of anger and agitation in those deep, tired blue eyes.</p><p>"What are you trying to do?" Roger spoke sharply and laid a hand on the wall.</p><p>"I… I have no clue, Roger" Brian sighed and closed his eyes for a bit "Even if I came to terms with… with this, I still don't have a bloody idea of what to do or how to handle the things that I am feeling. It is like walking blind, you know?" his voice faded, and he looked into his friend's eyes hopelessly.</p><p>Roger softened his gaze. To be honest, he did not know exactly what he was doing either. Maybe he was not a serial denier like Brian, but he did not do anything to clarify what was going on between them either. He realized this thing was too big for him to judge his friend so easily.</p><p>"Yeah, I know" Roger mumbled "But I can also see what we are doing, and it is not working. We can't shag girls while staring at each other as if we were fucking or flirt shamelessly on stage and then pretend that nothing happens" he stated and bit his lower lip, distressed.</p><p>"Yeah… Don't mention it, please" Brian pleaded.</p><p>"No, <em>there it is</em>! See? We are not bottling all it up again! Yes. I <em>have to</em> mention it, Brian. The Mott's after-party, the girls… It was fucked up" Roger spat.</p><p>"I know, okay? I'm too aware of that, but what do you suggest we do, huh?" Brian asked, exasperated.</p><p>Roger took a deep breath and made a step towards his friend.</p><p>"Maybe what we really feel like doing, for a change?" the blond doubtfully said and chuckled nervously "Whatever we are feeling right now…"</p><p><em>Whatever I feel like doing right now?</em> Brian thought and took his hands to his face. Well, that was interesting. He had a mix of sensations at that moment. Deep inside was the guilt torturing him non-stop. Chrissie, the love he undoubtedly still had for her and the certainty of betraying her with his actions and thoughts. But above all, there was desire, lust and the unbridled attraction to Roger than could not be erased by the distance they had put between them. The memories of the roof were as vivid as the first day and although it was hard for Brian, he couldn't deny all of this to himself anymore. He wanted Roger<em>: he wanted him badly</em>, that was the abominable feeling he had.</p><p>"Fuck, Roger…" Brian grabbed the blond by his left arm and took him to the end of the hallway. There was a door and presumably, a quieter (and dirty) room behind it.</p><p>Roger smiled bitterly. The red door of temptation… He had been trying to paint it black for the past three months but in the end, it was futile. It seemed they were meant to cross that door together.</p><p>Brian opened the door with his shoulders and the room was there. A bathroom, a filthy one. They didn't care. Roger looked around the tiny loo and saw a broomstick. He took it and locked the door the best he could. Next thing the blond knew was Brian cupping his face and pressing him to the wall behind them. The motion was aggressive, yet Roger was not scared: he had been waiting for this for a long time. Brian's face was so close to his that he could feel his friend's lips almost touching his.</p><p>"You are so <em>fucking</em> beautiful" Brian growled, and his big dark pupils dilated by lust pierced Roger's blue eyes. The rest was inevitable.</p><p>The first approach was rough. The restrained desire was flowing out, taking shape in a deep, warm kiss. Roger was exploring Brian's mouth intensely with his tongue as if he were trying to recall his haunting flavor. He passed his arms around his friend's waist and pulled him closer. He could feel those familiar slender fingers entangling with his hair and the sensation made him tremble. A soft moan escaped from his mouth, and Brian opened his eyes a bit. He saw Roger's droopy eyes half-open and instinctively bit his pinkish and already swollen lower lip. There was this unique thing about making out with a man, the brunet thought. This feeling of exploring a body that was just the same as yours but different. The realization that a man's body was just as enjoyable and gorgeous as a woman's was blowing Brian's mind and he surrendered to that revelation with all his might.</p><p>The passive-aggressive fight for dominance was a huge turn-on for Roger. He was throbbing hard and the urge made his hip move forward, looking for Brian's touch. His crotch found the cold leather of the brunet's trousers and that was a big disappointment. The height was starting to be a problem and Roger gently broke the kiss.</p><p>"Bri, why don't you sit over there?" the blond cooed and pointed to the toilet a few steps behind Brian.</p><p>"But… It's too filthy, I—" the guitarist complained, and Roger interrupted him.</p><p>"Put down the seat, it will be alright" he saw the look of disbelief in his friend's eyes and grabbed his hips, tucking his thumbs into Brian's belt "You are not gonna regret it, I promise"</p><p>At this point, Brian was convinced that the blond with the cherubim face was instead a demon. And he was no saint either. So, he put down the lid and sat on it, with his long legs wide open. His erection was too painful, and he rested his head on the wall.</p><p>The vision in front of Roger was fuel for his libido. Brian Harold May was sitting on a nasty toilet, vulnerable, extremely aroused and at his mercy, and yet he was still a heavenly sight. Maybe the reason why the drummer had developed this attraction for him was that Brian was <em>excruciatingly manly</em> and that aura emanating from him was what dragged Roger into this unexpected fixation.</p><p>The blond walked towards Brian and kneeled in front of him, between his legs. He looked into his friend's eyes and could see his flustered cheeks and parted lips.</p><p>"Can I do this, Brian?" Roger asked with a raspy voice as he caressed his thighs with both hands.</p><p>"Rog… You don't have to, really… I mean…" Brian tried to find the words and one of his hands tenderly tucked Roger's lock behind his ear "I'd love to but I understand if—"</p><p>"Bri, I want this. I <em>really</em> want this" Roger said and turned his head to Brian's hand, still on his cheek. He gently licked his palm and then he slowly swallowed his thumb, just as he undid the brunet's belt. Brian released a moan when he felt Roger's fingers briefly rubbing his crotch. The blond smiled and unzipped his trousers. He was conscious of the intense pulsation on his dick as he was closer and closer to the main show.</p><p>Brian helped him to pull down his pants and in brief seconds there it was, right before Roger's eyes: a huge, steady, and hard cock. The vision was a bit intimidating and the blond would not deny it. But thinking about how that dick could fill his mouth and how it would be to feel it twitching inside him was enough reason for him to go on.</p><p>At first, Roger shyly licked it from the base to the top, stimulating it with one of his hands a bit. It tasted salty because of the sweat but it was not unpleasant: the warmth and the texture of the skin melted his senses, and soon he was repeating up and down the path his tongue had made. Brian's moans were increasing, and he grabbed firmly but tenderly Roger's head, caressing his nape and ears. When he looked down, he saw how dedicated and delicate was the way the blond was licking him. His now watery, blue eyes were intensively watching every reaction on Brian’s body and face. Roger then stopped licking and pressed his swollen, full lips on his friend's cockhead and without averting his gaze from his, he swallowed him.</p><p>"Oh, fuck---" Brian almost chimed. <em>He bloody did it</em>, he thought, delighted with the sight of Roger sucking hard on his dick, doing the obscenest yet most arousing sounds he had ever heard. Brian was grabbing hard on the drummer's head, helping him to move backward and forward. The feeling of being inside his mouth along the sight of him blowing him without a trace of shame was almost unbearable.</p><p>Roger was painfully erect. Who knew doing a blowjob for the first time would be the biggest turn on of his entire life? Brian's cock was shuddering inside his mouth and Roger felt an intense tingle in his dick. He was so aroused that he wouldn’t mind if his friend ended up releasing his load on his mouth and suddenly, the thought of Brian’s baby-batter going down his throat made him moan. He could feel Brian’s thighs trembling under his hands and that was a signal that he was doing good. He was confident about his performance: he was sucking, licking, and pampering that dick just as he would love to be sucked. Sometimes a man can understand better how to take another guy to the ninth cloud.</p><p>Just when his throbbing dick was on the edge of pain, Roger felt how those loving hands put him away from his task. The kind hands were caressing him the whole time and now, Brian's thumbs were gently rubbing the saliva probably mixed with precum that was dripping from the corners of Roger's mouth.</p><p>"That… That was amazing, Rog" Brian whispered and looked into that intoxicating blue gaze "But, now I want to feel good with you. Together… Just like <em>that </em>time"</p><p>Roger swallowed his own saliva. <em>Affection</em>. Again, this feeling of being loved and treasured. There was no deceive in Brian's eyes. They were friends and somehow, in a twisted and intricate way, the love between mates was there. Or perhaps something more? It didn't matter. It was <em>love, genuine affection</em>. Roger got up off his knees and came closer to Brian, resting his hands on the brunet's thighs and leaned over for a kiss. It was a soft peck on the lips that lasted a few seconds but, yet it was the most daring thing they had done until that moment. It was a tender kiss, and lust had nothing to do with it.</p><p>That sweet peck on the lips startled Brian but in a good way. He smiled at Roger and the blond chuckled softly.</p><p>"Pull down your trousers and come here" Brian cooed, and Roger did as he was told. It was kind of funny: he was practically naked except for his shiny vest and a bunch of golden necklaces. Brian had his trousers down to his ankles and took off his white blouse. The heat was intense, and he knew that things were going to get hotter and stickier.</p><p>Roger quickly straddled him, and Brian straightened. He could feel how the blonde’s thighs were slipping against his because of the sweat, so with his right hand he grabbed firmly on his lower back. Roger placed his hands on his shoulders, spreading his legs even more as to approach his cock to Brian's. He moaned softly when their dicks finally made contact. The blonde could feel his own saliva on Brian’s dick, and he decided it was not wet enough. He spat on both their cocks and Brian could see how a thread of saliva was dripping from Roger’s lower lip to both cockheads.</p><p>The sight was unbelievably dirty, but Brian found it beautiful and mesmerizing. Roger having sex was undoubtedly the most gorgeous sight he had ever seen.</p><p>"Your turn, mate. I did enough" Roger whispered on his friend's ear.</p><p>"Splendid performance, indeed," Brian said, as his hand tried to wrap on both dicks. Feeling again the touch of Brian on his cock made Roger tremble and buried his face on his friend’s neck. The moment the brunet started to stimulate both cocks, the drummer impulsively started to rock his hips backward and forward, joining Brian's motion. Once they achieved synchrony, the world around them disappeared.</p><p>
  <em>How could that be possible? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>How could it feel this damned good?</em>
</p><p>They were drowning into something that they would not be able to come back from, and they knew it.</p><p>"Is…is it good, Rog?" Brian panted on his ear.</p><p>"Yes… Fuck, it's …too good…" Roger said between moans. The pleasure was increasing, and he was rocking a bit faster. He wanted to come so badly, yes, but he wanted to feel Brian's warm baby-batter all over his cock again even more.</p><p>The climax was not far. Brian could not restrain it anymore. The blowjob, Roger moaning and rocking over him, the sweat… Only a robot could endure it. Brian let go of a deep, noisy growl and his load landed on his friend's stomach and cock. His sight was blurry for a bit and he felt dizzy. Again, Roger was responsible of a spectacular orgasm.</p><p>The blond felt the cum all over him and moaned louder. Despite being exhausted, Brian left aside his now soft cock and took only Roger’s in his hand. Now, the sweat and his own semen were lubricating the throbbing dick and Brian gently rubbed a bit the cockhead. The blond pulled his face off his neck and stuck his forehead to his friends.</p><p>“Fuck, yes… right there” Roger panted, looking into his friend’s eyes and bit his lower lip “Oh, God…”</p><p>Having Roger at the verge of his pleasure made Brian tremble. He wanted to fulfill his desire; he was craving for the sight of that man collapsing because of the pleasure that <em>he</em> was giving to him.</p><p>And then, it happened.</p><p>That bloody word slipped from Brian's mouth.</p><p>"Come on, Rog. Come for me, <em>baby</em>"</p><p>The word naturally came out and Roger exploded. He let out a loud growl, threw his head back, arched his back and his load spilt over Brian's slender fingers. That <em>baby</em> had pushed a bottom inside him.</p><p>
  <em>Why? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>What was happening, really?</em>
</p><p>It was supposed to be some kind of lustful one-night stand and then the tender kiss, the affection and that <em>baby </em>made everything even more complex than before.</p><p>Roger straightened a bit as he was recovering and looked at the ceiling. <em>Could something that feels this good be so wrong? </em>He could not lie to himself. This was just the beginning and he knew it.</p><p>
  <em>What was going to happen between them from now on? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>What about Chrissie? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Would this affect Queen?</em>
</p><p>His heavy breathing filled the room for a minute while Brian was looking at him and caressing his thighs. And again, it was happening. As the intense sensation of the orgasm faded away, the new reality was imposing itself.</p><p><em>Denying what was going on between them was no longer an option. </em>Fear and uncertainty began to numb their hands as the anxiety felt like a lump in their throats, choking them.</p><p>"We… We tried, right? It’s not like we didn’t. We've fucking tried to keep our distance but—" Roger frantically mumbled, breathless. His chest was still going up and down. The rattles of his intense orgasm were still lingering under his skin.</p><p>Brian cupped his face with his hands. He gently wiped with his thumbs the tears silently flowing from his friend's eyes. <em>How twisted up is to find him even more gorgeous when he is looking like this,</em> he thought to himself, ashamed.</p><p>Roger could smell the scents of both still lingering on Brian’s hands. After that unholy bath, they felt softer.</p><p>"We both tried, Rog" Brian cooed as he was starting to shed his own warm tears of relief and regret.</p><p>The voices and steps of the roadies and the staff, the people laughing and screaming, all these noises coming from the main hallway were so close yet so far. Everyone's life was following its normal course. Roger thought that it was curious and frightening how your life could be at the verge of a radical change, at the point of no return and the whole world would just keep going as if nothing relevant had happened. It did not matter if your child had been born, or if your father had suddenly died or if you just found out that there is something more between you and your best mate. The world would mercilessly keep going, reminding you how insignificantly small and powerless you are.</p><p>Roger placed a hand over one of Brian's and closed his eyes. A sad, half-smile appeared on his now puffy lips.</p><p>"What are we supposed to do with <em>this</em>, with <em>us</em>?" Roger said with a cracked, raspy voice.</p><p>Brian did not answer. He had no clue about what to do next. Just thinking about that gave him a pitch in the stomach and made him feel the anxiety rushing through his veins.</p><p>But there was another reason for his silence. He had learnt the hard way that words could make everything worse if you used them fecklessly.</p><p>So, he decided not to say anything. Instead, he put a hand on his friend's bare, lower back and softly pulled him into a hug. His other hand went from Roger's face to his nape, entangling his slender fingers with the wet golden locks. The blond buried his face in Brian's neck and rested his hands on his chest.</p><p>The same sensation filled their bodies and turmoiled their minds: being in each other's arms <em>felt like home. </em></p><p>Little did they know that they would turn it into a <em>wrecked</em> home.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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